Preacher's Bloodbath

by Johnstone, William W.

  “Umm,” Nighthawk said.

  “Yes, I know. I talk too much. But I tend to do that when I get nervous, and heading back into the lion’s den is a bit of a strain on the nerves. You’re quite correct. Stealth is the order of the day.”

  Although he didn’t know exactly where they were going, it seemed to Audie that wherever Preacher went, some sort of ruckus soon followed. Once they reached the city, they would stay out of sight and try to find signs of a commotion. If they could backtrack the disturbance to its source, that was likely where Preacher would be.

  Audie explained the plan to Nighthawk, who nodded in agreement.

  Staying out of sight became more difficult when they got to the cultivated fields near the city, but both were experienced frontiersmen and knew how to find and use any shadows or other available cover. Many times their lives had depended on being able to get from one place to another without being seen.

  Soon they were inside the lost city, creeping through alleys between the stone buildings. Their general destination, Audie decided, would be the giant pyramid at the far end of the main avenue. That was where Preacher had been staked out to suffer the torments of the damned. That was the likely center of the Aztecs’ religion. It made sense that the high priest’s quarters, as well as those of the high priestess Eztli, ought to be somewhere not too far from that looming edifice.

  A faint rumble of anger sounded deep in Nighthawk’s throat as they passed the squat building where they had been imprisoned for so long. The big Crow didn’t make his usual pungent comments, but he didn’t have to for Audie to understand how his old friend felt about that place.

  Shouts suddenly rang out up ahead. Audie wasn’t the least bit surprised. If anything, he had expected the city to be in a much bigger uproar than it was. Preacher had that effect on places.

  “Come on,” Audie whispered. His short legs carried him quickly toward the disturbance with Nighthawk striding along beside him.

  What they were hearing didn’t sound like the noises of a battle, thought Audie. He could understand quite a bit of the Aztec language, thanks to his long conversations with Nazar, so as the words became clearer he realized that the men running to and fro in the streets were looking for someone.

  He had no doubt who that someone might be and put out a hand to signal a halt as he heard a frantic yelp somewhere nearby. It was like the sound a small animal might make if it found itself caught in the talons of a swooping hawk or eagle, but Audie thought it came from a human throat.

  He signaled to Nighthawk and they drew back deeper into the shadows as a group of warriors appeared, dragging along a prisoner. Audie recognized Nazar. His heart sank a little at the thought of the turtle-like priest being a captive. Did that mean the warriors had captured Preacher, too?

  Watching from the thick gloom, Audie spotted Tenoch with a crude, darkly stained bandage around his neck. He had been wounded. Probably by Preacher, Audie thought.

  But where was the mountain man? That seemed to be the question on Tenoch’s mind, too, as Nazar’s trembling form was dragged before him.

  Tenoch spoke too rapidly for Audie to follow everything the high priest said, but he could tell that Tenoch was questioning Nazar about Preacher. From the sound of the interrogation, Preacher and Nazar had penetrated into Tenoch’s chambers and attacked him. Tenoch had been wounded, but Preacher had failed to kill him. Then Preacher and Nazar had gotten away.

  Tenoch demanded to know if Preacher still had Eztli with him, and that angry question brought a smile to Audie’s lips as the former professor listened in the shadows. He knew that Preacher must have taken Eztli with him when they fled in order to use her as a hostage. Knowing his old friend as he did, Audie suspected that treating a female that way had bothered Preacher somewhat. But the mountain man would do whatever was necessary in order to achieve his goals.

  Stammering in fear, Nazar confirmed that Eztli was still Preacher’s prisoner the last time he saw them. Then Tenoch reached out, closed his hand around Nazar’s throat, and asked where that had been.

  The choking pressure prevented Nazar from answering. His eyes grew wide and bulged out. His tongue protruded between his lips. When Tenoch finally let go of him, he sagged in the grip of the men holding him up and seemed to be only half-conscious as he gasped for precious breath to fill his starving lungs.

  After a long moment, Nazar looked up at Tenoch and mumbled something. Tenoch forced him to repeat it, then snapped orders at his men. Several of them rushed off.

  Tenoch and the rest of the group followed at a slower pace, dragging Nazar along with them.

  Nighthawk leaned closer to Audie and made that rumbling sound in his throat again.

  Audie whispered, “I know. I would have liked to jump right in the middle of them, too. But there were too many of them. We can’t help Preacher if we get ourselves killed or captured.”

  Nighthawk just grunted, clearly not happy with Audie’s answer but recognizing the wisdom of it.

  Unknown to the Aztecs, the two of them joined the procession, following Tenoch and the others but staying well back, out of sight. After a few minutes, the group of warrior-priests entered one of the blocky buildings. Audie and Nighthawk, knowing that inside the cramped, unfamiliar confines they would be at a potentially fatal disadvantage, waited to see what was going to happen next.

  The thing that Audie worried about the most was what happened.

  The Aztecs emerged from the building again. And Preacher was their prisoner.

  The mountain man wasn’t nude anymore. He wore a pair of buckskin leggings, but that was all. He didn’t appear to be injured, at least no more than he had been when they had all escaped from the prison earlier that evening.

  He wasn’t the only captive. Tenoch’s men still had Nazar, of course, but there was another prisoner, alive but apparently unconscious, a man Audie had never seen before.

  A frown creased the little man’s face as he studied the third captive in the light of a torch. At first glance, the man appeared to be one of the Aztecs, but there were subtle differences, Audie realized. After a moment, he realized what they meant.

  The third prisoner reminded Audie very much of Blackfoot warriors he had encountered outside the hidden valley.

  That thought made the wheels of his brain speed up. He remembered what Nazar had told him about the legends of how the Aztecs had come there hundreds of years earlier and first conquered and then assimilated the Indian tribe they had found living there. Clearly, the degree of intermarriage had varied among the population. Tenoch and Eztli, for example, appeared to be almost pure Aztec in their heritage. The rest of the priests were predominantly Aztec as well.

  It was possible that some of the conquered Blackfeet had tried to maintain their bloodlines, too. From the looks of the man captured along with Preacher and Nazar, he seemed to come from such a background. Audie wondered if the man had tried to help the two fugitives, and that was why he had incurred Tenoch’s wrath.

  Tenoch and Eztli came out of the building. Eztli was nude but seemingly not bothered by that fact. Tenoch looked shakier, but Eztli was beside him to steady him. He barked some orders, and most of the warriors started off in one direction, taking Preacher, Nazar, and the other prisoner with them.

  Tenoch and Eztli and a couple guards headed another direction. Audie suspected they were returning to Tenoch’s quarters so he could rest. Clearly, he’d had some damage done to him.

  Audie had no doubt about the identity of the one who had dealt it out.

  Preacher.

  Tenoch would hate Preacher more than ever. Only the mountain man’s death would satisfy Tenoch’s need for vengeance and he wouldn’t waste the opportunity for a spectacle. He might wait at least until the next sundown and stage another sacrifice. Perhaps even a triple sacrifice . . .

  “Umm,” Nighthawk said softly.

  “We’ll follow them,” Audie replied, “just to make sure where they’re taking Preacher. Before it’s too l
ate, we’ll start thinking about ways to get him out of the hands of these devils. I’ve lost count of how many times Preacher has saved our lives. It’s our turn to rescue him from a horrible death.”

  Any death Tenoch had in mind . . . was bound to be horrible.

  CHAPTER 40

  Audie knew that he and Nighthawk, despite their formidable skills, wouldn’t be able to accomplish much if they tried to rescue Preacher by themselves. They would stand a much better chance if they had help of some sort, and once Audie thought about it for a while, he realized where they might be able to locate such assistance.

  “Do you think you can find your way back to that building where they captured Preacher?” he asked Nighthawk in a whisper.

  The big Crow gave him a slightly offended frown as if such a question was ridiculous and shouldn’t have been asked in the first place.

  “Yes, of course you can,” Audie said quickly. “I should have known better. I believe I could find the place, but I trust your instincts more than my own, old friend. Lead on.”

  “Umm,” Nighthawk said.

  “You saw the third prisoner Tenoch and his men took out of there with Preacher and Nazar. I thought he had the look of a Blackfoot about him.”

  At the mention of the rival tribe, Nighthawk turned his head and spat on the street. The Crow and the Blackfeet were hereditary enemies. They had been raiding, killing, and enslaving each other for countless generations. He said, “Umm,” again.

  “Yes, I know. You can go on all day once you get started vilifying them. But remember, if these people are indeed of Blackfoot heritage, they’re not like the ones we’ve known outside this valley. They’ve been cut off for hundreds of years and have had no interaction with other tribes except the Aztecs, who conquered and oppressed them for all that time. My hope is that they’ll be willing to help us, especially since it seems that one of their own is destined to face Tenoch’s sacrificial knife.”

  Nighthawk still wore a dubious expression. Clearly, it was difficult for him to place his faith in any sort of Blackfoot, even those who hadn’t grown up hating the Crow.

  After a moment he nodded, and with no further delay, he and Audie started through the dark alleys, back toward the building where Preacher had been recaptured.

  Not surprisingly, Nighthawk had no trouble finding the place again. Once he had been over a trail—even a “trail” that consisted of a winding path through dark alleys—it was etched into his brain forever, an ability he shared with Preacher. Audie was almost as good at finding his way around, but with those two the trait bordered on supernatural.

  Tenoch hadn’t left any guards behind, relying on the fear of him and his men that gripped the populace to keep them under control as much as anything else. All Audie and Nighthawk had to do was open the door and walk in.

  Nighthawk hesitated.

  Audie said, “I know what you’re feeling. You don’t want to be shut up behind stone walls again. I understand. We’re meant for the great outdoors, you and I. I felt the same way in the cloistered halls of academia. That’s one reason I left it all behind and came to the mountains. But we have to go in there if we’re going to find anyone to help us in our quest to free Preacher.”

  “Umm,” Nighthawk said in acceptance. He lifted the spear he had taken from one of the guards earlier and held it across his chest as an even grimmer expression than usual settled over his rugged face. He marched forward.

  Audie hurried to keep up with him.

  Nighthawk opened the door and they stepped into darkness.

  But it wasn’t complete darkness, Audie realized after a moment. A faint glow up ahead served as a guide as they moved stealthily along a corridor.

  They turned a corner and saw a doorway through which the light slanted, its flickering quality coming from a candle. Stealing forward, they reached a point where they could look through the doorway and saw a woman kneeling and weeping beside the body of a man. He had a bloody wound in his back, but whatever had caused it had been removed.

  Nighthawk suddenly stiffened and began to turn. Audie knew his friend had sensed some sort of danger, so he followed suit. Neither had done more than start to move when the sharpened heads of spears pressed into their backs.

  A harsh voice barked a command for them not to move. Audie understood the words, even though a couple seconds passed before he realized they were a blend of Aztec and Blackfoot.

  Language, like most things, evolved over time, and those people had had approximately four hundred years to develop in different ways from their cousins in the outside world. Still, most of the words had common origins, so Audie was able to recognize them. It was actually easier than if a contemporary American had tried to understand someone speaking in Olde English.

  “Friends,” he said in a firm voice, using the Blackfoot word. “Nighthawk and I are friends to your people.”

  Stunned silence greeted the declaration. Audie glanced over his shoulder and saw four men gathered in the corridor behind him and Nighthawk. Two pressed their spears against the intruders, and the other pair stood ready to strike if they needed to.

  It was likely they knew about the prisoners escaping several hours earlier. Even if they didn’t, all they had to do was look at Audie and Nighthawk to know they didn’t belong. They could curry favor with the priests by turning the two fugitives over to them.

  Audie was counting on what he had just seen to mean that they wouldn’t do that. He pointed at the dead man and the woman who had turned a tear-streaked face toward the doorway and went on. “The ones who did this are our enemies.”

  The men didn’t say anything right away. They prodded Audie and Nighthawk deeper into the room filled with yellow candlelight and surrounded them with leveled spears.

  “You are from beyond the Wall of the Gods?” a man asked.

  Audie knew he meant the cliffs that closed off the valley on the east. He nodded. “Yes, we are from the land beyond that wall. We were brought here as prisoners by Tenoch and his men, but we have escaped. We came to look for our friend, but Tenoch has him.”

  “Preacher,” the man said.

  “That is what he is called. We watched while Tenoch’s men took him and a priest called Nazar and another man from this place as prisoners.”

  “Elk Horn was the other man.” The spokesman added bitterly, “Our brother. His wife was struck down by the priests, as was the husband of this woman.”

  The speech was strange and archaic, but Audie had no trouble grasping everything the man was saying. He’d always had a knack for languages, prompted by his study of Latin at an early age. Given the hostility and contempt with which other children had treated him because of his size, there hadn’t been much for him to do except study.

  “You do not have to threaten us,” Audie said. “We mean you and your people no harm. In the world beyond the cliffs, we are friends with the Blackfeet, the people from which you came.”

  Nighthawk grunted. Audie gave him a quick warning look, then went on. “I can tell by the words you speak and the clothes you wear that your people have tried to keep their ways alive, despite being conquered by the Aztecs.”

  “There were too many of them!” the spokesman spat out. “The old stories tell of how they came here, to this rich valley where our ancestors lived, and brought death and destruction with them. They burned the lodges of our people. They killed women and children. Our warriors fought valiantly.”

  “I’m certain they did,” Audie said quietly.

  “But there were too many of the outsiders. They were too brutal. In the end, our people could not stand before them.”

  Audie nodded. It was quite a telling observation that Blackfoot legends spoke of how brutal the Aztec invaders were. The Blackfeet were feared from one end of the frontier to the other as fierce fighters. To think that the Aztecs were even worse . . .

  Well, Audie mused, that explained how they had been able to establish an empire in what was now Mexico, didn’t it? But like all
empires, eventually it had been brought low.

  “There is no shame in what happened here,” Audie said. “The Aztecs conquered many tribes over time. But now”—he swept a hand around him—“this is the only Aztec city that remains anywhere in the world. In all the others, the people are gone and the buildings fall into decay. The Aztecs have come to the end of their rule . . . and so should it be here. Tenoch should be the last high priest to stain his hands with the blood of innocents.”

  Audie knew he was fomenting revolution. If he could convince the Blackfeet who clung to their ways to rise in rebellion, that would be the best distraction he and Nighthawk could ask for as they tried to free Preacher.

  At the same time, Audie felt a pang of regret deep inside him. He was asking these men to risk their lives, as well as the lives of their families, in a cause that might be hopeless. Tenoch’s men might crush any sort of rebellion and then mete out a cruel vengeance on those who’d dare to defy them.

  Even as that thought crossed his mind, Audie remembered how few the priests really were, compared to the rest of the population. They ruled with an iron fist, backed up by knives, spears, war clubs, and their merciless nature, but if enough of the people rose . . .

  It was impossible to predict. Best to concentrate on smaller goals, he decided, like freeing Preacher and getting out of the blood-drenched valley. “Do you know what Tenoch plans to do with our friend, the one he took from here along with Nazar and Elk Horn?”

  The spokesman hesitated, then said, “I heard him tell Eztli that they would all be sacrificed the next time the sun goes down.”

  “Will you help us save them? We will free Elk Horn as well, and kill Tenoch.”