Empire of the Skull

by Philip Caveney

  And for once in his life, Alec was in total agreement.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  In Limbo

  They were pushed into a small chamber, which unlike most of the other rooms through which they had passed had a solid metal door. Glancing around quickly, Alec could see that there were no windows, just white plastered stone walls. Light came in through a square opening in the ceiling above them, but this was criss-crossed by a series of stout wooden beams; a grille that was too narrow to squeeze through. Wooden bunks with woven mattresses stood along one wall, and up at the far end there was a small open latrine. Half a dozen guards entered the room with them and stood guard as Tlaloc took out his knife and cut through their bonds. Alec gave a sigh of relief and rubbed his wrists, feeling the blood flowing back into them.

  'That's a relief,' he said.

  Ethan nodded. He too was looking around, clearly seeking some avenue of escape, but it seemed hopeless. The opening in the ceiling offered the only possible way out, but as Alec gazed up, he saw the impassive face of a guard looking down at him and realized that the Aztecs had it covered.

  'What happens now?' asked Nelson, but nobody had an answer.

  Travers appeared in the doorway and stood there, smiling. 'Make yourselves comfortable,' he told them. 'For tonight, at least, you are our guests. I will arrange for food and water to be brought to you. Tomorrow you will be taken to meet Chicahua, our emperor. He will decide what is to happen to you.'

  Coates frowned. 'Why do I get the impression that's not going to be the most pleasant of outcomes?' he asked.

  'You must take heart, my friend,' the old man said. 'When I was first brought here, I had the worst . . . expectations. But here I am, alive and well.'

  Luis stepped forward. 'Listen,' he said. 'I'm to blame for us being here. You can do whatever you want to me, but I ask you to spare the lives of these others.'

  Travers seemed amused by this. 'It is not for me to decide your fate,' he told him. 'I want you to know that I personally wish you no harm.'

  'I'll bet Itztli doesn't feel that way,' said Alec bitterly.

  Travers shrugged. 'Itztli carries out the bidding of Mictlantecuhtli,' he said. 'And if the lord of the dead asks for you to join him, you will be sent down to the underworld. Though even the high priest must bow to the wishes of his emperor.'

  'Then we'd do well to make a good impression,' observed Coates. 'I wonder if perhaps you could arrange to have my clothes cleaned and pressed?'

  Travers laughed at that. 'You are an amusing fellow,' he said. 'Let us hope you can keep your sense of humour. It may be sorely tested in the days to come.'

  Meanwhile Frank was pacing agitatedly around the room, glaring at Travers and the guards. 'What have you done with Conchita?' he demanded to know.

  Travers raised his eyebrows. 'Conchita? Ah, the woman! You need have no worries about her. Itztli will present her to the emperor: she will be kept in comfort and no harm shall befall her, I can assure you of that. Unless of course she displeases her new husband.'

  'You tell him if he so much as lays a finger on her, he'll have me to answer to.'

  Travers sighed. 'I shall do no such thing,' he said. 'You would be better advised to watch your tongue and worry about your own fate, my friend. Your Conchita will have a life of pampered comfort. You, on the other hand, may have only a few hours left. Use them wisely.'

  He left them and disappeared along the corridor. The guards backed towards the doorway. Tlaloc went out last, watching them all intently.

  'Food come soon,' he told them; and then the door slammed and they heard the sound of bolts being slid into position.

  They all stood there, looking hopelessly at each other. Then Ethan sighed and went and sat down on one of the bunks.

  'What are you doing?' Nelson wanted to know.

  'Getting some rest until the food arrives,' said Ethan.

  Nelson stared at him incredulously. 'How can you think of resting?' he cried. 'These savages intend to kill us!'

  'We don't actually know that yet,' Alec told him. 'Maybe this emperor will decide to keep us alive.'

  'Yeah, dream on, kid,' snarled Nelson. 'Maybe he'll throw a big party for us, with Jell-O and ice cream! We should be looking for a way out of here.'

  'Be my guest,' said Coates, taking a seat on another bunk. 'Does anybody mind if I take my shoes off ? My feet are killing me.'

  Nobody objected so he unlaced his heavy boots and pulled off his socks. He stared down at his feet. 'I do believe I've got blisters!'

  'You are incredible!' Nelson turned to Frank, thinking perhaps that he might have more luck with him. 'Don't you think we should be doing something?' he asked.

  Frank just looked miserable. 'I can't stop thinkin' about Conchita,' he said. 'She must be terrified.'

  'The hell with Conchita! I'm terrified. I can't believe you're all just sitting around here!'

  'What would you have us do?' asked Luis. 'Señor Wade is right, there's nothing we can achieve right now. We may as well just try and get some rest.'

  'You stay out of this, Chavez! You've forfeited your right to have any say in what goes on here. I tell you this: if we ever make it back to civilization, I'm going to see to it that you pay for your crimes. I'll be there laughing when they sentence you to twenty years in a stinking jail.'

  Coates was massaging one of his feet. 'I had some very good ointment in my pack,' he murmured. 'It would have taken care of these blisters very effectively. I suppose one of those Aztecs has it now.'

  'Maybe we could ask for a bowl of hot water when they come back,' suggested Alec, sitting down beside Coates. 'And some salt. I suppose they have salt? I believe that's a good treatment for blisters.'

  'My pa always swore by rubbing alcohol,' said Ethan. 'Always seemed to do the trick. Hey, if we get to talk to Travers again, maybe he could find out what happened to your ointment?'

  Nelson stared at them for a moment, then shook his head. He went along to the furthest bunk and threw himself down on it, his face turned away. Luis also climbed up into the bunk above Ethan. Only Frank remained on his feet, walking up and down agitatedly and staring at the solid metal door.

  'I hope Conchita's all right,' he said hopelessly. 'I hope they haven't hurt her.'

  Conchita lay in the deep stone bath, up to her neck in deliciously hot water perfumed with aromatic flower petals. A group of young Indian women attended her, some bringing in large gold jugs containing more hot water to top up the bath, others laying out a selection of clothes for her to try when she was ready.

  It was only just beginning to dawn on her that nobody here seemed to want to harm her. On the contrary, the girls had been welcoming – giggling and talking excitedly amongst themselves, as though her arrival was the most amazing thing that had ever happened. The moment the guards had pushed her into the chamber, they had cut through her bonds and massaged her sore wrists. Meanwhile, the bath had been filled, and when it was ready, she had been helped to undress – her pleas for a little privacy ignored.

  One woman who was older than the others knew a few words of English and had identified herself as Nelli. She was plump and pleasant-looking with huge brown eyes, her hair braided and pinned up on top of her head. She wore a plain white dress and some exotic-looking pieces of jewellery. She stayed beside the bath, talking to Conchita while the other girls moved to and fro around her.

  'You lucky,' she said now, smiling down at her. 'You wife of emperor, you stay here with us.'

  Conchita frowned up at her. 'I can't stay here long,' she said. 'I have a screen test.' Nelli smiled. It was evident she didn't have a clue what this meant. 'You stay. Very nice here. Good food, all you want!' She patted her ample tummy. 'You need flesh on bones, like Nelli.'

  'But . . . I don't want to marry this . . . emperor.'

  Nelli made a dismissive gesture with her hand, as though it was of little consequence. 'It is decided,' she told Conchita. 'Chicahua take you as wife, but there is no need to worry.
You will understand when you meet him.'

  She said something in Nahuatl to the other girls and they fell into a fit of giggling. Nelli lifted a finger to her lips to shush them. 'Come,' she said. 'You clean now. Ready for food.'

  This reminded Conchita that she hadn't eaten a thing since the previous night. She got out of the bath and a couple of women hurried forward to hold up a woven cotton towel to preserve her modesty. She felt embarrassed, but before she could say anything, two more girls were towelling her dry, giving her the kind of attention they might give to a baby.

  'I'll do that,' she kept saying, but they ignored her protests, smiling up at her in apparent devotion. It occurred to her that they were treating her almost like a celebrity. This must be what it was like to be a star of motion pictures.

  A selection of clothes were brought to her, from which she chose a loose-fitting cotton dress. Before she knew it she was seated on a kind of throne with women braiding her hair and clasping beautiful jewellery around her wrists and neck. A polished metal mirror was held up so she could see her reflection. She was frankly astonished. With her hair done like this and dressed in the unfamiliar clothes, she could easily have passed for an Aztec woman.

  'You like us now,' said Nelli, guessing at her thoughts.

  Conchita allowed herself a smile, but her empty stomach was complaining and she reminded the other woman about her promise of food.

  'Ah, yes!' Nelli clapped her hands and more girls hurried into the room carrying platters containing a bewildering variety of foods. Conchita recognized corn pancakes filled with red beans and tomatoes, and pieces of cold fish wrapped in fragrant leaves. There were also large chunks of succulent meat that she could not identify but tasted delicious. She was handed a clay bowl and encouraged to take what she wanted. There was no cutlery of any kind, so she ate with her fingers, pushing handfuls of food into her mouth. One platter held an assortment of what looked like large fried grasshoppers. She kept waving it away, until Nelli, thinking she was being overly polite, picked up the biggest and crammed it into her mouth. Terrified of offending anyone, Conchita made herself take one; it was horribly crunchy but tasted of chicken. A clay goblet of brown liquid was handed to her, and she was astonished to discover that it was thick, sweet drinking chocolate. She took a mouthful and the women all laughed and pointed at her. One of them held out the mirror and she saw she had a dark moustache across her top lip. She laughed too and wiped it away with the back of her hand. She reached for one last chunk of meat and then hesitated, holding it out to Nelli with a questioning look on her face.

  'Pig?' she asked.

  Nelli smiled, shook her head.

  'Chicken?'

  The woman looked baffled, clearly not recognizing the word, so Conchita made a clucking sound and waggled her folded arms like wings. Nelli caught on and shook her head again, laughing. She thought for a moment, but couldn't come up with the word, so she made a barking sound.

  Conchita let the piece of meat fall from her fingers. She stared at Nelli in absolute horror. 'Dog?' she whispered.

  Nelli grinned and nodded. 'Dog!' she said delightedly. 'Good, yes?'

  Conchita could feel the colour draining from her face; she stopped eating after that. She was thinking of Pepe, her little poodle back home in Acapulco, and it was all she could do to stop herself from throwing up.

  Itztli made his way into the heart of the pyramid and descended the narrow stone staircase that led down into its bowels. Along the walls, rows of lanterns sent out a flickering light. Tlaloc followed him, staying a respectful distance behind. Few people ever came down here, and only the high priest ever took the winding stairs to the very end.

  They came to an ancient golden doorway and Itztli glanced at Tlaloc, who turned his back. The door had an intricate locking system – a series of buttons and levers that had to be pressed in a certain order – and Itztli always insisted that nobody else should witness how he did it. This was his secret, only to be passed on to the man who would inherit his powers when he was old and failing. The high priest had recently taken to bringing Tlaloc along with him, telling him that he feared enemies might be lying in wait for him in these dark corridors. But the truth was, he had other plans for the warrior in the not-too-distant future and needed to get him used to the idea of coming down here regularly.

  The door mechanism gave a dull clunk as the lock opened. He pushed the heavy door open, aware as he did so of the incredible heat radiating from within. He took a burning torch from the wall beside him and went inside, closing the door behind him. Ahead, the heat rose up from the great open wound in the earth that led down to the realm of Mictlan. He descended the final flight of steps to the gallery; as he drew nearer, the torch became unnecessary, the scene lit by the fiery red glow.

  Itztli never failed to be humbled and amazed by what lay before him. Somewhere back in history, at the very beginnings of his race, somebody must have discovered this place and recognized it as a passage to the home of a god. They had first created this great gallery, a circular pathway centred around and above the gateway to Mictlan. Later, they had built a temple above it, a simple stone building with a central opening through which the fumes and heat of Mictlan could be released. In time, over the years, another temple had been built over the first one, bigger and more elaborate. Over the centuries, more layers had been added, each covering the one beneath, until finally the giant step pyramid reared like a colossus above everything. But deep at its core, the great wound remained open; and through each successive layer, the flue that allowed Mictlantecuhtli's power to vent itself into the sky was left open.

  Itztli leaned out over the chest-high wall and stared down into the void, feeling the raw heat of the molten rock on his face; and he called out to Mictlantecuhtli, not aloud, but allowing the voice in his head to speak for him, as he had learned to do over the years.

  Awake, Great Lord, his inner voice screamed. It is I, your humble servant, who call you. Awaken and grant me the honour of speaking to me.

  There was a long silence then and he began to think that the god did not have ears to listen to him today. But then, far, far below in the very bowels of the earth, there was a rumbling sound and suddenly the god's voice sounded in his head, a voice like no other – a strange hiss of scalding air and bubbling lava; but Itztli knew how to interpret the words only too well.

  ITZTLI, WHAT BRINGS YOU TO ME?

  I have them in my power, Great Lord. The outsiders, the ones who dared to defile your ceremony.

  AH, GOOOOOD!

  I come only to ask what you would have me do with them, Great One.

  SEND THEM TO ME, ITZTLI. RELEASE THEIR SOULS WITH YOUR OBSIDIAN BLADE AND SEND THEM TO STAND BESIDE ME IN MICTLAN.

  You would not choose to spare them, as you did Coyotl?

  COYOTL CAME TO OUR CITY ON FOOT, ITZTLI. HE WAS MEEK AND HUMBLE AND HE SUBMITTED HIMSELF TO ALL OUR INVESTIGATIONS, ALL OUR CEREMONIES. HE PROVED HIMSELF WORTHY AND I WAS WILLING TO PARDON HIM. BUT THESE BLASPHEMERS IN THEIR SKY CHARIOT, THEY HAD TO BE CAUGHT AND DRAGGED HERE IN CHAINS. THERE SHALL BE NO SUCH MERCY FOR THEM. I WANT THEM HERE, WHERE THEY CAN FEEL THE FULL WRATH OF MY POWERS.

  I shall deliver them to you, my lord. Only . . .

  ONLY WHAT?

  Tomorrow they must first meet with Chicahua.

  AND?

  Chicahua worries me, my lord. He is just a stupid boy.

  AND YOUR EMPEROR, ITZTLI. DON'T FORGET THAT!

  Yes, but I worry he will not do the right thing by you. You know how fanciful he is. How . . . weak. He may decide to spare the outsiders. And I . . . I cannot go against his word: he is the emperor.

  A long silence. Mictlantecuhtli seemed to be deliberating. Itztli waited, hardly daring to breathe.

  AS YOU SAY, ITZTLI, HE IS BUT A BOY. EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT YOU ARE THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN THE CITY. PERHAPS IT IS TIME YOU LISTENED TO WHAT THE OTHER PRIESTS HAVE TOLD YOU. PERHAPS IT IS TIME YOU SEIZED POWER FOR YOURSELF.

  Itztli nodded
and licked his dry lips. The heat of the molten rock far below drew out large drops of sweat on his face and his gown was sticking to his skinny body.

  My lord . . . if I might be so bold as to ask for your help . . .

  There was a dull rumble of thunder below him and Itztli felt the walkway tremble beneath his feet.

  YOU DARE TO ASK FOR MY ASSISTANCE?

  My lord, only so that I may better serve you – if you would send the children of Mictlan to aid me, then perhaps I could take power . . .

  The rumbling settled down again. There was another long silence. Then:

  I WILL THINK ON IT, ITZTLI. TAKE THEM TO CHICAHUA. SEE WHAT HE DECIDES. AND SHOULD HE MAKE THE WRONG DECISION . . .

  Yes, my lord?

  COME AND SPEAK WITH ME AGAIN.

  I will.

  Itztli waited, staring down at the shifting orange light below, waiting for more words. But nothing came. He forced himself to turn away and retraced his steps along the gallery to the ancient doorway, two red spots dancing in front of his eyes.

  He climbed the narrow steps to the door and unlocked it. He stepped through, closing it behind him with an echoing clang. He returned the flaming torch to its place on the wall and walked slowly back to where Tlaloc awaited him. At the sound of the high priest's tread, the warrior turned and regarded him, his face impassive, as though he had no interest in what went on beyond the golden door. Itztli knew he itched to know the truth but was not so stupid as to let his expression betray his curiosity.

  'Lead the way,' he ordered.

  Tlaloc nodded and, turning, began to climb the steps. Itztli followed him, aware of the sweat cooling on his face.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Gift

  The following morning Alec woke to the sounds of strange discordant music coming from outside their cell. He sat up on his bunk and found that the others were already awake. Coates was listening intently, as though trying to figure something out.

  'What is it?' Alec asked him.