Dak and Sera both started screaming, too.
Kisa just lay there, cringing in pain.
But an odd thing happened. The snakes slithered right over Kisa. They appeared to be converging on the two Mayan men, ignoring the kids entirely.
“It’s witchcraft!” cried the man with the knife.
“Run!” yelled the other.
As soon as the men had disappeared into the trees, the snakes dispersed. It was hard to tell whether they were in pursuit or simply passing through.
Dak staggered to his feet, holding his wrist. “What just happened?”
Sera pointed to Kisa, who was now sitting up. “Did she just save our lives?”
Dak looked at Kisa, who was fingering the locket around her neck. “Sometimes I come out here when I’m bored, and I hum to them. But nothing like this ever happened.”
Dak turned to Sera. “Dude, she’s like one of those guys who plays the flute or whatever and gets a snake to dance around.”
“Maybe, said Sera. “Maybe they were just . . . migrating. Do snakes migrate?”
“You have to go find Riq now,” Kisa said.
“What about you?” Dak said.
“I need to be alone for a few minutes. I will be right behind you.”
Dak turned to Sera and shrugged.
“Come on,” said Sera. “I think I know which way Riq was headed.”
“QUIET, MEN,” Itchik said, his chest heaving in and out. “It won’t be long now.”
But Riq noted that the king of Izamal was breathing just as loudly as the rest of them. They’d run several miles through the hot and humid jungle — taking the “long road” out of town, as Itchik called it. Sweat streamed down Riq’s face, stinging his eyes, salting his lips. But he tried to follow orders and breathe more quietly.
The plan was to take a different route than the men from Calakmul, circling around to cut them off from the front. Once they saw the men emerge on the path, Riq would spring into action. His particular role in Itchik’s plan was by far the most dangerous, but he wasn’t complaining. This was his purpose now. To help the people of Kisa’s village. And if helping them meant putting his life at risk, that’s exactly what he’d do.
“Easy, men,” Itchik said, regaining his breath.
As they waited, Riq thought about how different his new life would be. A few days ago he was a thousand percent committed to the Hystorian mission. It was the very blood that pumped through his veins . . . and always would. But today he was going to step away from the front lines of the Hystorians’ struggle. His loyalty now belonged to the people of Izamal. And Kisa. His heart hammered inside his chest as he imagined waking up in this jungle village for the rest of his days.
Itchik turned to Riq, said, “You ready, son?”
“I’m ready, sir,” Riq said.
“Remember, just toss the codex over your shoulder when you get it. Huracan will be there to pick it up.”
“Yes, sir.” Riq glanced back at Huracan. The man nodded to him. Then Riq glanced at the man who had possession of the trial codex. It was inside a leather bag slung across his shoulder.
Riq whipped his head back around when he heard hushed voices coming from the path. Men from Calakmul were approaching. He raised up into a squat, readying himself to scamper through the dense foliage and onto the footpath, but Itchik held Riq by the elbow and shook his head. “Not yet,” he mouthed, pointing toward the path.
Riq saw that there were six men walking in a tight formation. But none of them had been in the temple with Pacal. And there was no sign of the codex.
“They were telling the truth,” Itchik whispered back to his men. “They have reinforcements.”
After the men had passed, Itchik continued, “I’ve seen this tactic before. They have a group of men lead the way, scouting the path. Then we will see a middle group, which will likely include the men who took the codex. And finally, there will be a scout group bringing up the rear. We will have to act quickly, men. Our plan will have to be fully executed before the final group is upon us.”
Riq expected to see the second group right away, but there was more waiting. And the longer he waited, the more questions came into his head. What if he couldn’t wrestle the codex away from whomever was carrying it? What if he failed in his very first role as a member of Kisa’s community? Or what if the men who’d stolen the codex went a completely different way? He wiped sweat from his forehead and swallowed. If there really was going to be a second group, what was taking them so long?
Seconds later, he heard the cracking of branches in the jungle behind him and spun around. The rest of the men turned around, too, some brandishing their knives. To Riq’s complete surprise, it was Sera who emerged . . . with Dak! One of the warriors put a finger to his lips, urging them to keep quiet.
But Dak snuck over to Riq anyway and knelt beside him. “You have to come with us,” he whispered.
“You’re walking around again?” Riq said.
“I’m more than just walking around.” Dak stood up and did a stupid five-second dance, then knelt back down. “Seriously, though, you need to come with us.”
“Can’t do it,” Riq said.
Sera leaned over their shoulders, whispering in Spanish so that their translators would have to recalibrate, allowing them a moment of privacy within the crowd. “We’ve figured out the riddle, Riq. We’re supposed to take the codex with us. And I was able to work out the second date from the riddle. It’s in 1562! That must be our next stop.”
Riq balked. “Why would you take the codex with you?”
Itchik shot them both a look. Riq knew he couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he wanted them to be silent.
“Uh, to protect it?” Dak whispered. “Sera told me some guys already tried to steal it. We both believe this is the Break we’re supposed to fix before we move on. And we seriously need to move on.”
Riq looked over his shoulder at Sera, who was nodding. He turned back to Dak, who whispered, “Come on, dude, be a team player.”
“If you don’t quit bothering me,” Riq whispered back, “we’ll never get the codex back. We’re waiting for the people who have it to pass. Now go on. Shoo.”
“I see,” Dak said, rubbing his hands together. “Finally, a bit of that Mayan warmongering I’ve been hoping for.”
Riq shook his head. The kid was much easier to get along with when he was unconscious.
“Look,” Dak whispered, “one of us has to grab it so we can warp the heck out of this place. Sera has the Ring all programmed and ready to go. Here’s an idea: Let’s live to fix another Break. This place has been hard on my system.”
Riq stared at Dak, trying to decide the best way to break the news that he wasn’t going anywhere. Because it was definitely best to get that part out of the way. “I wanted to talk to you about that, Dak,” he began. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the last couple days —”
“Well, there’s a step in the right direction,” Dak said.
“Ha-ha. Anyway I’m just going to come out and say it. I’m not going to continue on from —” Riq wasn’t able to finish his sentence because right then Itchik grabbed his elbow again and pointed down at the path.
Riq turned and saw five men walking up the hill — including the two he’d seen in the temple earlier. One of them had the folded-up codex tucked under his left arm.
Riq furiously waved Dak away.
This was his moment.
Itchik held on to Riq’s elbow until the last possible second, then he pushed Riq out from behind the trees. Riq’s adrenaline kicked in as he scampered down the densely packed hill, shouting at the Calakmul men, “Take me with you! Please! They’ll kill me!”
The men stopped, clearly caught off guard.
The front three pulled their knives.
Itchik and a few
of his warriors followed Riq down the hill, commanding, “Stop that boy! He is to be punished for his crimes!”
Riq pushed past the first row of Calakmul men and jumped onto the man holding the codex. “Please!” he continued shouting. “They’ll kill me!”
“Get off him!” the men with knives shouted. One slashed Riq’s cheek, blood instantly trickling down his face and neck. But Riq kept his wits about him. He had to execute the plan. He yanked the codex out of the man’s hands, still pleading for help, and tossed it over his shoulder.
Riq glanced back in time to see Huracan pick it up and pretend to hand it to Itchik, who already had the trial codex in his possession. Itchik then thrust the trial codex up over his head and shouted, “Men, this belongs to you! Take back your codex and display it in the greatest empire in all the land! All I ask in return is that you hand over that thief!”
The Calakmul men were busy kicking at Riq and slugging him in the back and head. Riq covered himself and closed his eyes, and he could now hear Dak and Sera screaming for the men to stop, but the beating didn’t stop until Itchik stepped over Riq and waved everyone away. He handed over the trial codex, and pulled Riq to his feet . . . only to slug him square in the jaw.
Riq was facedown on the path again with no memory of falling.
“Take him!” Itchik shouted back at his warriors.
Several of Itchik’s men picked Riq up and held his arms behind his back as Itchik announced, “This boy was caught looting huts in the wake of the great storm! He will be punished in the square!”
Riq was slightly dazed from all the abuse he’d taken, but he was still clearheaded enough to smile on the inside. The plan was working perfectly. The Calakmul men had backed off. Huracan had already left for the village to hide the real codex. The man holding the fake looked through a few pages of glyphs, but didn’t seem to have any clue that there was a difference.
Itchik commanded to his men, “Lead him back! Now!”
But before they could take Riq anywhere, one of the Calakmul men said, “Why not sacrifice him right here in the jungle? Isn’t that what a thief deserves?”
“Yeah, do him in now!” another shouted. “So we can watch!”
“No!” a voice from the crowd yelled.
Riq looked up to see Kisa hurrying through the foliage and onto the path.
“He didn’t steal anything!” she shouted, shoving one of the men who held Riq. The man laughed, managing to keep ahold of Riq.
“It’s okay,” Riq said to Kisa under his breath.
Kisa ignored Riq and shouted at Itchik. “He didn’t steal anything! It’s all a bunch of lies!”
Many of the Calakmul men were laughing now. Which meant, Riq realized, they were no longer calling for his head. Itchik played along with Kisa’s assertion by commanding, “We will attend to this matter back in the village. A verdict on the thief will be made by this evening so the gods can bear witness.” Then he turned to the visitors from Calakmul and said, “Men, I thank you for capturing the prisoner. Please give my regards to Yuknoom the Great.”
They all nodded. One said, “A couple of our men are missing. If you come across those misfits —”
“You can try them before the gods, too,” another man interjected.
All the Calakmul men laughed.
The first man continued, “Tell them we’re already on our way to the next village.”
“Of course,” Itchik said.
Riq couldn’t believe his eyes; the men from Calakmul were all turning and continuing down the jungle path, away from Izamal. The plan had worked. Itchik’s men were all quietly congratulating one another as Riq reached up to touch his bloody cheek.
“Kisa,” Itchik said, grinning from ear to ear. “How you always innately sense what’s happening, I’ll never understand.”
“You knew it was all part of the plan?” Riq asked.
Kisa nodded. “I knew Itchik would never strike an unarmed person. It had to be an act.” Riq saw that she was holding a metal locket with a chain.
“Yes, I’m very sorry about the punch,” Itchik said. “You’ve sacrificed so much for us, son.”
Riq felt a rush of pride as he watched Itchik join his men, but there was a worried look on Kisa’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“You will not stay here,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Riq said. “I thought it was all settled.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I want you to go.”
Riq’s whole body felt suddenly paralyzed. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Earlier you said —”
“It only matters what I’m saying now,” she said with a stern look on her face. “Please go, Riq.”
Dak and Sera pushed through the men to get to him. “Wow,” Dak said. “You took some serious abuse.”
“Are you okay?” Sera asked. “We tried to rush down here to help, but the men hiding in the bushes stopped us and told us all about the plan. You agreed to this?”
Riq nodded, but he could hardly follow Sera’s words. He was too numb from what Kisa had just said to him. He watched her back away, wondering what had changed. Why was she so against him staying now?
“We’re leaving right this second,” Dak said. “We heard there might be another group coming through here, and I don’t want to take any chances.”
Sera was already kneeling down onto the path and reaching into her satchel for the Ring. She pulled it out and powered it on.
Riq looked at Kisa. He decided he had to stay anyway. She would come around in time. “Dak, Sera,” he began, “this is very hard for me to say, but —”
“Do you all have everything you need?” Kisa interrupted, pushing herself forward again.
“I think we do,” Dak said. He turned to Riq. “Sera and I now believe the codex is supposed to remain here in the village under Kisa and Pacal’s protection. Right, Sera? You think our mission was just to get it back from those men?”
“I’m positive,” Sera answered, looking up. “Which we’ve done thanks to you, Riq.”
“Honestly,” Dak said. “Great work, dude.”
Riq was going to try one more time to explain he intended to stay, but then he saw the callous look on Kisa’s face. Like he suddenly disgusted her. And then one of Itchik’s men said, “Look!” His finger was pointing down the path to where a third group of Calakmul men was fast approaching. There were at least fifteen men marching in formation, less than fifty yards away.
“Come on!” Dak shouted at Sera. “We need to do this now!”
“I’m trying!” Sera shouted back.
Itchik and his men were already retreating up into the jungle. Riq grabbed Kisa’s arm before she could go and said, “You really want me to leave?”
She stared back at him, completely straight-faced, and said simply, “Yes.” Then she handed Riq the locket. Riq looked at the snake carved into the front of it. Then he looked up at Kisa, his heart breaking. “But I thought —”
“You thought wrong,” she said, cutting him off.
He let her go — the only thing he could do — and watched her disappear into the bushes.
“Stay where you are!” one of the Calakmul men shouted at Riq, Dak, and Sera.
Riq turned and saw the men hurrying toward them.
“Now, Sera!” Dak shouted.
“Got it!” she shouted back. “Grab on!”
Riq reluctantly reached for a part of the Ring, staring up at the tree Kisa had just ducked behind. His face stung. And his back and ribs and head were pulsing with pain. But that was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside. Something had changed for Kisa. She no longer wanted him around.
The men were less than ten yards away when Sera shouted, “Here we go!”
The Ring brightened, and Riq was so jarred by the abrupt feeling of its power that he acciden
tally dropped the locket onto the ground. “Wait!” he shouted, reaching down for it, but just before he could wrap his fingers around the snake’s metal tail he was whisked away into blackness and it was lost.
SERA IS sucked right back into her memory of the Cataclysm.
She sees herself in the small motorized emergency raft again, speeding through intersection after intersection. And she’s screaming, begging for all of it to stop. The fires. The flooding. The acid rain pouring down from above. The earth’s violent shaking.
Sera zips past several miles of absolute destruction until she’s out of the city and turns onto her childhood street. She lets off the gas as she nears her house, then dives overboard and swim-walks her way up the flooded driveway. When she reaches a trembling hand out for the doorknob, she half expects to black out or be whisked away — like every other time she’s tried to access her memory of the Cataclysm.
But this time she remains present.
She watches herself slowly turn the knob, push open the door, creep inside the only home she’s ever known. “Uncle Diego!” she calls out.
No answer.
Sera moves through the living room, leaving the front door wide open behind her. The wood floors are covered in two feet of grayish water. Many of her uncle’s possessions are submerged or floating randomly: books, documents, framed photos, candles, old newspapers and magazines, vases. Most of the furniture is overturned. A leg is missing from the dining room table. The TV is knocked over and punctured. The mirror below the clock is shattered and hanging askew. It looks like someone has ransacked the place, looking for something, but what?
The kitchen is even worse. The fridge is wide open and mostly cleaned out, its door ripped from the hinges. The cupboards are full of broken plates and glasses. Sera stops cold when she sees the empty wooden knife block. The utensil drawer is still full of forks and spoons. But the knives are gone. Where are the knives?
“Uncle Diego!” she calls out again.
Curse of the Ancients Page 7
