I led them north, along the creeks and then the open plain. Heads down, in silence, we continued—accompanied only by the cursing from Yaotl’s men and the crack of their lashes.
Coatl the Snake continuously marched up and down the line of slaves, shouting orders to lash those not moving fast enough.
He seemed to take joy in pestering both me, and for some reason, the poor bear. He carried a stout staff with him, and whenever he passed the bear he would whack it hard, sending the beast into a rage with men scurrying to control him.
A cold winter breeze blew at us, coming hard from upstream. The slaves were barefoot, and barely clad, and shivered helplessly.
Every now and then I’d hear a slave cry out in terror, as he was pulled from the line. Moments later his shrieks would grow as the guards beat him.
They cried in despair as much as the pain because they knew whoever failed to redouble his pace under the heavy loads would be beaten again, and again, until death was the only reward.
And when one of them died, his load would then be redistributed to the others who were also struggling fiercely to survive the ordeal.
I forced myself to blot out the cries, and not look back.
By noon we had passed a bell-shaped rock, and by late afternoon we were on the banks of Oak Creek. Here we paused.
We had walked a long, hard day, and I collapsed as soon as Yaotl gave orders to make camp.
Over the next few hours I watched the long line of slaves slowly catch up with us, and with each wretched face that passed before me I strengthened my resolve to destroy these evil people.
Coatl supervised the unloading of the cargo, and when everything was stacked, and the slaves in a newly constructed pen, the head count revealed that another twenty slaves had perished. They were down to thirty-five slaves, but they still had seventeen soldiers and about that number in Blue Men.
Before Coatl allowed the soldiers and Blue Men to relax, he made them collect and burn the newly dead. Only then would he let them sit and eat and tend to their injuries. Most had feet that were cut and blistered.
Yaotl inspected his camp before retiring, with Coatl a half-step behind him, watching everything with a cunning look in his eyes.
“The men are fine,” warned Yaotl, “but the slaves will not hold much longer.”
Coatl chanced a short laugh. “What does it matter if they live or die?” he asked. “You yourself said none will be left breathing when we are finished here.”
“Don’t be a fool,” berated Yaotl. “If any more slaves die you will have to start bearing a load.”
The shocked expression that took over Coatl’s face sent Yaotl chuckling as he retired to his shelter.
We set out the next morning with ten guards and the remaining fifteen Blue Men. The Blue Men were loaded with the Spanish steel, but no other cargo.
Coatl remained with the slaves and a half-dozen soldiers who were transporting the cargo. Through gestures I had told Yaotl that we were a day’s journey from Itzel Canyon.
There was no way the battered slaves could carry all the freight that distance in one trip, so they planned to make several. Most wouldn’t survive another day.
As we entered Oak Creek Canyon, we left another pyre of burning bodies behind us. A cold wind blew down the canyon and we had to lean into it as we progressed upstream.
For the next six hours we trudged up the creek. The trees had all shed their leaves and did little to break the wind. Sometimes I led Yaotl´s people along game trails that followed the water, other times I hopped from stone to stone. Ice had formed in shady spots along the shore, and around the rocks that stuck up out of the flow.
I steered toward routes with treacherous or slippery footing, hoping that Yaotl´s men would slip and fall—and some did.
But it was difficult with my hands tied. My head spun. Several times I scooped up a handful of water, but I hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. Most likely Yaotl and his men expected me to be dead long before I starved.
When the day was half spent, we turned left into the West Fork.
Yaotl left two guards there, to make sure the slaves could follow.
The smaller canyon lay forlorn and devoid of life, twisting before us like an immense uncoiled snake. There was no splash of color, or trace of an animal. Even the birds were silent.
We pushed on, frigid step after step. Soon most of the water lay trapped in cold black puddles covered with a thin layer of ice.
As the walls closed in, and rose higher, we were forced to break the ice and march straight through water that was sometimes waist-deep. The men shivered, and occasionally cursed under their breath—even the Blue Men seemed to be moving in a stupor.
When we passed through a flooded tunnel some of the men began to panic, glancing at each other with eyes full of dread, as if they sensed we were moving deeper into some forbidden place.
In the cold, dark tunnel their heavy breathing echoed and reverberated. It seemed to whisper all around them, reaffirming the fear that they were entering a realm controlled by the spirits.
Nevertheless, they had no choice but continue until finally we reached a fork where a steep canyon appeared on the left.
I nodded at it and said, “Itzel Canyon.”
Yaotl had his men set up camp right there, by a bend in the creek where a small pond reflected the remaining daylight. While they were clearing brush and lighting several fires, he sent two scouts up the canyon to see what terrain awaited.
When they returned and reported what they had found, he sent Coatl and the Blue Men up the ravine. They carried with them steel mallets and wedges, and the saws.
Over the next few hours the canyon was filled with the sounds of hammering and trees being felled.
Night came early that deep into the West Fork, and I slunk off to a corner to sleep.
Chapter Sixteen
The sun was high overhead when I woke the next day. How I’d slept so long was a mystery. I was still bound, my wrists raw and swollen; and my back and limbs ached from the previous day’s journey and sleeping on the hard rock of the canyon floor.
Much of the strangers´ cargo had been hauled up the canyon in the interim and lay stacked twenty paces away. One of the bundles had torn, and on the ground, I could see several yellow pieces of metal.
I picked one up, surprised at its weight. My people had little use for the metal, but clearly it had value to the invaders. We were transporting a treasure—for what use I still didn’t know.
A man coughed behind me, and I turned to see Yaotl watching me. He was seated in the shade of a juniper, a few paces away.
I dropped the coin, which had begun to burn warmly in my hand.
He laughed, grinning, and walked to me and picked it up.
He held it before me. Do you know this metal? his eyes implored.
I nodded. I’d seen the yellow metal before.
Yaotl pointed at the sky, and then swept his arm down in an arc until he pointed at a rock by his feet. He picked up the rock, and then touched the rock and the gold coin together and smiled.
Was he telling me there were stars in the metal?
He shook his head at my blank expression, grabbed my elbow, and escorted me to the mouth of Itzel Canyon, where we gazed up its length.
All the low shrubs had been cleared, and the fallen trees and logs removed. Using the hammers and chisels, the Blue Men had removed any boulders that blocked the way and carved steps out of the canyon´s sandstone walls.
They had built a trail leading up the canyon, and steep sections that previously had to be climbed were now traversable. Near the top was a lengthy, slanted ascent with a long series of steps.
Suddenly I was grabbed by my hair, roughly, and then pushed forward toward Yaotl. I glanced back quickly to see Coatl the Snake, watching me with a grin.
He had caught up with us in the night.
I glimpsed another gruesome stack of dead slaves behind him. Piled by the side were their discarded chai
ns and collars.
Shackled to a cottonwood was the old Mexican grizzly. He was lying down when I had observed him before, but now he paced restlessly. He was a head taller than a man and must have weighed as much a four.
And his coloring was different than any bear I’d ever seen; not brown, or black, but silver, with darker, yellowish underfur. He’d injured one of his paws, but still watched his captors intently.
When one of the soldiers passed too close to the bear it swiped at him, and almost took his head off.
The man cursed, then threw a rock at the bear, hitting him solidly in the shoulder.
The bear roared defiantly, and the man chuckled.
Suddenly, through my hardened resolve that knew nothing but revenge, I felt pity for the bear.
So intently had I been watching the bear that I didn’t see Coatl walk up. He cuffed me on the side of the head to get my attention.
“Come!” he commanded.
I joined Yaotl and waited while he instructed Coatl and his men to haul the treasure up the newly constructed canyon trail.
It didn’t take us long to ascend to the highest accessible point in the canyon, where four guards were blocking the entrance to the chute that led to the hidden box canyon.
I climbed up through the dark, damp entrance and took in the canyon. It had been years since I’d been here, but it felt like not a second had passed.
I was again surprised at how big it was, and how high the walls were. Numerous paintings on the lower walls documented the time of the ancients here; and reminded me of the long line of women who had kept the place hidden.
I had been warned about this location for as long as I could remember. And yet, it was connected to my mother, and grandmother, and my tribe, and there was something comforting about it.
But I shut off the emotions that tried to take over.
Soon Yaotl was next to me, surveying the box canyon.
He gave me a questioning glance, and I nodded toward the cave in the back. The morning sun had risen high enough to glint over the eastern wall and it shone straight into the entrance. The roots of the junipers flanking the entryway gripped the sides of the ingress as if trying to stretch them wider.
The Snake’s eyes eagerly darted in that direction.
At the mouth of the cave, Yaotl ordered his guards to stay back.
Only Yaotl, Coatl and myself entered.
Inside, we could dimly see by the sunlight coming from behind. The ceiling sloped down toward the back, and water dripped from it into clear puddles. The ancient ones had left clay pots under a few of the drips, and the water in them rippled darkly.
On a dry mound in the middle of the cave, I noticed a mano and metate next to several bowls of powder.
I tried not to look at the section of wall where the evil tunnel lay concealed. The plaster hiding it had been painted over with symbols, and some old baskets were placed before it.
Instead, I lingered by a small chamber to the left of the entrance, choking down the fear that was slowly taking over my senses. Several old bear skulls were lined up on the floor, and a necklace of bear claws hung from a peg above them.
From behind me, I heard the Snake whistle.
I turned and saw him nod at the wall in front of the tunnel.
After a word from Yaotl, he stepped outside and returned with a hammer and a torch. He gave the torch to Yaotl and began smashing down the barrier to the tunnel´s entrance.
My heart was beating wildly.
With the first blow a hole opened, and the air rushed by with a sucking sound, as if the tunnel led to a place devoid of oxygen.
Despite my pledge to remain cold and impassive, I lost control of myself and turned and fled. I made it out of the cave, and halfway to the exit, before one of the soldiers tackled me. He grabbed me roughly by the arm and led me to Coatl, who smacked me in the face and then dragged me back into the cave.
The tunnel´s entrance had now been opened. Yaotl stood before it, the flickering light from the torch illuminating only the first few feet. He was sweating and pale, but his eyes glowed with exhilaration as he peered into the dark passageway ahead.
He observed Coatl staring into the tunnel also and grabbed him roughly. “You are not to enter under any circumstances,” he commanded.
The Snake said, “Yes, my…” but was cut off when Yaotl gripped him by the throat and squeezed.
“Do you understand?” asked Yaotl threateningly.
Coatl tried to speak but couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe.
He managed a weak nod and Yaotl let go.
The Snake quickly retreated, bowing submissively as he backed away. “I swear, my lord,” he whimpered, “I will never go in.”
The Snake saw that I’d been watching and roughly shoved me into the room with the bear skulls. Then he pointed at the dark recess where I sat, held up his knife and fingered the sharp obsidian edge. The message was clear: If I left the chamber, he’d kill me. We both watched silently as Yaotl disappeared into the tunnel.
Coatl left the cave for the box canyon when he could no longer hear his lord scampering through the tunnel, and it became apparent that Yaotl would not be returning right away.
I searched around me, and then the cave where the water drips, and eventually found a small shard of black, volcanic rock. It was about the same shape as one that I would have used to skin an animal—or to cut someone.
And I also paused by the clay bowl and quenched my thirst.
Then I crept back into the recess with the bear skulls and cut the rope binding my hands. In case the Snake noticed, I retied them loosely before laying my head down to rest.
Sleep swept over me like a shadow and I knew not how long I’d been unconscious when I woke later.
I crawled to the mouth of the cave and peered past the junipers to see what was happening in the box canyon.
The sun had passed over the rim of our canyon and left us in shadow, and I guessed nightfall wasn’t far away.
Blue Men and Yaotl’s personal soldiers were hauling up the crates and stacking them in the box canyon. I saw very few slaves.
Some men were coming my way, and I slipped back in the recess with the bear skulls. On the other side of the cave, on the dry patch between puddles where they metate lay, they placed the bound jaguar, the basket with the snake, and the caged bird.
The eagle squawked raucously as they set it down.
There was commotion outside. Then the bear was led into the cave, ruthlessly encouraged by several Blue Men with lashes. Somehow, they had shackled his front and back feet and he had to shuffle forward, awkwardly.
He still roared defiantly. His screams were terrifying in the small cave, and the men were anxious to be rid of the bear.
One man carried a spear, and he stabbed the bear in the side when he wouldn’t move next to the other caged animals.
The bear lunged forward and bit the man in the throat, killing him instantly.
Coatl sounded an alarm and soon the cave was filled with men carrying spears, but the bear would not go any nearer to the sacrificial animals—or to the tunnel behind them.
The best they could do was drive the bear into the small recess where I sat, right next to me.
Coatl laughed uproariously when he saw me scamper to the far wall. But the bear seemed to have no anger toward me, and instead snarled at his captors.
When the men left the cave again, the bear turned away from me and curled up against the wall.
I sat there listening to it breathing, and panting, and realized how badly it was injured.
I scampered to the clay pot filled with water, retrieved it, and placed it before the bear.
Its eyes opened just a fraction, and then slowly the bear leaned forward and drank.
For one brief moment my spirit soared, but then I realized that most likely neither of us would survive and my cold heart broke in two.
Yaotl emerged from the tunnel. His body was tense, every muscle flexed. He was covere
d in an orange powder that appeared luminescent. His pupils were dilated and seemed to have a yellow glow to them.
Coatl knelt before him, almost giddy with the power in his lord’s eyes. They’d found Xibalba, the entrance to the other world.
“I need ten Blue Men,” said Yaotl. “Put them in chains.”
Coatl nodded at this unusual request. After all, they prided themselves on being more than mere slaves.
Yaotl rubbed his chin, “And I want five of my best soldiers. Give each man a lash, but no weapons.”
He grabbed Coatl by his chest plate. “You are to make sure I am the only one to ever enter the tunnel with a weapon—understand?”
Coatl whimpered. “Yes lord, of course,” he said and backed away.
Soon he returned with ten Blue Men, all wearing steel collars, and chained to each other. Although the men were cut and bruised and exhausted from the ordeal of opening the canyon, their pride had not been broken. Some were glaring at Coatl for chaining them—but none dared to look Yaotl in the eye. They feared him and seemed to sense his newfound power.
Yaotl ordered them to widen the tunnel. Five soldiers with lashes were to supervise their work. But before any of them entered the tunnel, Yaotl had them fill their ears with wax.
I watched. The men worked hard while Yaotl stood back and observed, one hand on the hilt of a dagger, the other holding a club that rested on his shoulder.
As they moved deeper and deeper into the tunnel, and the shouting and the crack of lashes intensified. The Blue Men screamed in agony, but the steady pounding of steel on rock continued.
In the box canyon, Coatl was supervising the shuttling of the rest of the treasure. He still had ten warriors, a half-dozen Blue Men, and some remaining slaves.
It was dark by the time they finished, and they’d only been laying down for thirty minutes when Yaotl emerged from the tunnel with his soldiers and the chained Blue Men.
The Snake had been waiting by the tunnel entrance, drawn there by horrid screams and shouting from within. Of the ten Blue Men, only six were still alive. They hauled their dead, chained, comrades out of the tunnel and collapsed.
The Sirens of Oak Creek Page 8
