Empire of the Skull

by Philip Caveney

  AH YES, MY WARRIORS OF THE DEAD – YOU WISH ME TO SEND THEM TO YOU. WELL, IT COULD BE DONE. BUT YOU REALIZE, ITZTLI, THAT THERE IS ALWAYS A PRICE TO PAY FOR THEIR SERVICES. THEY CANNOT BE BOUGHT CHEAPLY. YOUR SOUL WILL BELONG TO ME.

  My lord, you already have my soul. And if I am to carry out your wishes, if I am to deliver the outsiders to you, then . . .

  YES. LET IT BE DONE. OBSERVE.

  The lord of Mictlan's voice seemed to fade away, replaced by a louder roar from below. There was movement in the molten rock – a great cloud of grey smoke was slowly billowing up.

  'My lord!' It was Tlaloc, calling from the other side of the gallery, sounding apprehensive. 'I think we should leave!'

  'No, stay where you are!' Itztli shouted back. 'There is no need for alarm.'

  'But the smoke!'

  'I said stay!'

  Now the acrid fog was rising up to the gallery, engulfing them both. Looking across, Itztli could see the figure standing on the balcony, about to panic. And as he gazed, he began to see vague shapes in the smoke beside Tlaloc: a row of figures that quickly began to take form, solidify. Now he could make out their blank staring faces, their wizened grey flesh, the gaping holes in their chests where the hearts had been removed.

  Tlaloc suddenly became aware of them. He jerked his head left and right, his eyes bulging in their sockets. He gave a gasp of terror, and for an instant Itztli thought he was about to fling himself into the fire below. The priest knew he could not allow that to happen. He shouted an order:

  'Tlaloc, do not move! Stay exactly where you are!'

  The man froze like a statue, staring straight ahead, an expression of terror on his brutish face. 'What . . . What are these things, my lord?' he cried. 'They look like . . . men, but . . .'

  'Calm, Tlaloc, calm! These are the children of Mictlan, sent to help us in our duty. You need have no fear of them.'

  Itztli began to prowl along the gallery, edging past the warriors ranged all the way around the circle – some two or three hundred in all, each armed with a spear or club. They remained unmoving, looking straight ahead as he passed by, their eyes as black and dead as the rest of them, waiting to receive their orders.

  In Itztli's mind, the lord of Mictlan's voice rose again, whispering, urging him onwards:

  MAKE THIS MAN LIKE THE REST OF YOUR ARMY, ITZTLI. THEN HE IS YOURS TO COMMAND. AND ITZTLI?

  Yes, my lord?

  DO NOT TARRY LONG. YOU HAVE THEIR SERVICES ONLY DURING THE HOURS OF DARKNESS. BY MORNING THEY MUST RETURN TO ME.

  Itztli nodded. He slipped a hand beneath his cloak and felt the familiar handle of the obsidian-bladed dagger.

  He walked around the circle, smiling reassuringly at Tlaloc. The big warrior was shaking like a child, his simple mind unable to deal with something so incredible. He was still staring rigidly ahead, afraid to look into the dead eyes of the creatures that stood on either side of him.

  'My lord,' he gasped, 'are they demons?'

  'Have no fear,' whispered Itztli. 'They are the departed – those who have gone to meet the lord of Mictlan over the centuries. They are our friends. They wish only to serve us.'

  But Tlaloc was shaking his head, sweat streaming down his face. 'This is witchcraft!' he cried. 'I want no part of this. Let me out of here now!'

  'Hush, Tlaloc.' Itztli placed a hand on the man's shoulder, steadying him. He slid his right hand free of his cloak, the blade glittering in the glow of the molten rock. 'Have no fear, I shall make everything all right.'

  He stepped forward and lifted the blade to Tlaloc's chest in one quick, practised movement. The big man grunted in surprise as Itztli brought the blade up and across; he watched the high priest plunge his other hand into his chest and emerge holding his still beating heart. Tlaloc stared down at it in disbelief but he did not fall. The grey smoke was pouring into the opening in his chest; his flesh began to wither, turning the same dull grey as the smoke. For an instant his body sagged, but then he straightened up again. The light in his eyes glazed over and his expression became blank.

  Itztli could feel the man's heart still beating against the palm of his hand. 'Tlaloc, do you know me?' he asked softly.

  'I do,' murmured Tlaloc, his voice as dead and grey as his flesh.

  'Who must you obey now?'

  'You, my lord. Only you.'

  'Good.' Itztli returned the dagger to its sheath beneath his cloak. He lifted the heart and flung it down into the fires below. 'Now the lord of Mictlan has your heart,' he said. 'And as long as he has it, you will obey my commands. Do you understand?'

  Tlaloc nodded. The high priest turned to survey the figures waiting in a great circle all around him. He lifted his voice so that all might hear his words.

  'We go up to the city,' he shouted. 'We go to carry out the bidding of the lord of Mictlan. If anyone opposes you, kill them.'

  None of them spoke a word, but as if at a given signal, each turned to his left. Itztli headed for the golden door and his army fell into line behind him, marching with a slow, measured tread as he led them out of the chamber and up the steps to the city.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Rude Awakening

  Alec woke to the sound of screaming. He sat up on his bunk and blinked furiously, unsure for a moment where he was. Then the interior of the dark room swam into focus and he looked around. The others were stretched out on their bunks – all except for Ethan, who was standing by the door, as though waiting for somebody. He was holding the stone dagger.

  'Ethan, how long have you been standing there?' Alec whispered.

  'A while,' muttered Ethan. 'Something's going on outside.'

  Alec listened intently for a moment. There it was again – a desperate scream coming from somewhere outside. His blood ran cold. Whatever it was, it didn't sound like good news.

  'Better wake the others,' said Ethan. 'I think somebody's coming.'

  Sure enough, in the corridor outside they heard footsteps – a slow, measured tread. Alec climbed off his bunk and moved around the cell, shaking the others awake.

  'Get ready,' he told them. 'Ethan thinks something's happening.'

  There were a few groans and grunts of irritation, but everyone got up and gazed at the door.

  'We'll only get one chance,' Ethan told them. 'The moment I grab whoever comes through, I need you to rush him and grab his weapons.'

  'What if it's more than one person?' asked Coates.

  'Just do your best! We may not get another chance. Quiet now, they're close.'

  The marching footsteps were just outside now, and to Alec's befuddled senses it sounded like an army out there. He was getting a bad feeling about this – something had changed, but it was too late to say anything because now the bolts were being slid back. The door creaked open and a figure stepped into the room, silhouetted by the glow of the blazing torch behind him. Alec thought he recognized the tall, muscular shape of Tlaloc. The warrior took a step forward, and at that moment Ethan jumped out from behind the door and leaped forward, driving the stone dagger down between his shoulder blades, burying it to the hilt. Tlaloc grunted but remained upright. The other captives leaped forward to lend a hand, but then they saw Tlaloc clearly and they all stopped in their tracks, staring openmouthed at the creature standing before them.

  'What are you waiting for?' bellowed Ethan, pulling the knife free. 'Grab h—'

  That was as far as he got. Tlaloc – or the thing that had been Tlaloc – threw back an arm and swatted Ethan aside like an irritating mosquito. Ethan was lifted clear off his feet and thrown back against the wall like a doll. He slammed into it, dislodging chunks of adobe, and slid to the floor, winded. Then more warriors spilled into the room, one of them holding a blazing torch.

  Now that Alec could see them in detail, he wanted to cry out in terror. Tlaloc seemed to have shrunk in on himself, his arms and shoulders barely covered with grey flesh through which the bones could be clearly seen. There was a dark opening in his chest where his heart should
have been and his eyes were two black, sightless orbs that seemed to stare straight ahead. The handle of the stone dagger jutted from between his shoulder blades, as though it was of no consequence. He took a quick shambling step backwards, bent down and flung out an arm to grab the front of Ethan's shirt. The arm was almost fleshless, but it jerked Ethan back to his feet and propelled him across the room. He fell against a bunk and slumped to the floor. Alec and Coates rushed to help him back to his feet and he turned, baffled, to get his first real look at the creatures that had entered the room.

  'Holy Moley!' he said. 'What the hell is going on?'

  Alec could come up with nothing that made any sense. He was looking at a row of men who ought to be dead and buried. But they were moving forward now, spears raised to point at the captives' chests.

  'The children of Mictlan . . .' Alec heard Luis say, his voice little more than a whisper. Alec was about to ask him to explain, but then Tlaloc spoke, and his voice too was different – a deep, rumbling croak that made the hairs on Alec's neck stand up.

  'Come with us,' he said; it wasn't an invitation. Then he lifted a hand and gestured to them impatiently. 'Now! ' Nobody felt like arguing with him.

  'Stick together,' Ethan urged the others.

  The warriors moved aside and the prisoners stumbled fearfully towards the door. Alec thought about making a run for it in the corridor, but more of the creatures waited for them out there, all armed with spears and clubs, and he knew it was pointless. The warriors closed in around them, and now Alec noticed the smell of them – an overpowering stench of cooked meat that made him gag.

  'Where are you taking us?' shouted Nelson, but he got no reply.

  They were herded along the corridor while the creatures marched alongside them with a shuffling gait, their blank eyes staring straight ahead.

  'Luis,' gasped Alec, 'what are the children of Mictlan?'

  The Mexican gave him a strange wild-eyed look. 'The souls of all the warriors who have been sacrificed to the lord of the underworld,' he said. 'Legend says that they can be called back to do Mictlantecuhtli's bidding, but I thought it was only a story.'

  They emerged from the archway at the end of the corridor into a scene of complete devastation. The moonlit streets of Colotlán were in turmoil as hundreds of the undead creatures shambled backwards and forwards, waving their spears and herding the population in the direction of the pyramid. Alec noticed bodies lying in the streets – those who must have tried to oppose the children of Mictlan and had paid the ultimate price.

  'Coates,' he gasped, 'I think this is Itztli's doing. I think he means to sacrifice us tonight.'

  Coates somehow managed a reassuring smile. 'Take courage, Master Alec,' he said. 'Let's not give them the satisfaction of seeing that we are afraid.'

  'The hell with that!' roared Nelson. He turned to the creature nearest to him. 'Listen – I can get you gold, jewels, anything you want. All you have to do is turn your back for a moment and let me go.'

  'Shouldn't that be let us go?' Luis corrected him.

  'It's every man for himself now,' snapped Nelson. He reached out to grab the creature's shoulder. 'Listen to me,' he said. 'I mean it, I'll make any arrangement you want, just let me—' He broke off, looking down in horror as he realized that a chunk of flesh had come away in his hand. 'Oh my God,' he cried. 'Somebody help us!'

  Now the dark outline of the step pyramid came into view, and Alec could see that up on its summit, braziers were burning; in front of them stood the silhouetted figures of the priests, dressed in their full regalia.

  'I was right,' he murmured. 'They mean to sacrifice us.'

  Ethan flashed him a fierce look. 'It ain't over till it's over, kid,' he said.

  'Frank!' A familiar voice came from somewhere in the crowd, and Frank looked around desperately until he spotted Conchita, who was being herded forward amongst a crowd of other women. He tried to make his way towards her but was driven back by a casual blow from one of the children of Mictlan.

  'Conchita!' he yelled. 'I—' Whatever he said was lost in the sudden roar as the ground beneath their feet shuddered and a great gout of orange flame belched out of the summit of the pyramid. Alec nearly lost his footing and Coates threw out an arm to support him.

  'Perfect,' he said. 'As if we didn't have enough to contend with.'

  They approached the foot of the pyramid; ahead of them, waiting, were a couple of the dead warriors supporting a familiar figure between them. It was Travers, and Alec could see that a dark crimson stain was spreading across the front of his white cotton robe. He tried to smile at them, but pain turned it into a grimace of agony.

  'Good evening . . . my friends,' he gasped. 'I . . . am sorry that your stay in Colotlán could not have been . . . as long as my own.'

  'What's happening here?' demanded Ethan.

  'Itztli . . . is happening,' said Travers. He pointed up to the summit of the pyramid and now Alec could see the tall figure of the high priest silhouetted against the flames of a brazier. Behind him stood the giant statue of the lord of Mictlan, his grinning skull looking eerily animated in the flickering light of the fire. 'He has . . . taken control. After the ceremony he will proclaim himself emperor.' Travers waved a hand at the pandemonium around them. 'But to invoke the children of Mictlan in this way . . . even I did not think he would resort to such measures.'

  'Are you badly injured?' asked Alec.

  Travers nodded. 'Fatally so, I fear. When those creatures came to take Chicahua, I opposed them – I grabbed a sword and tried to protect him. I paid the price for my defiance.'

  'And Chicahua?' asked Alec.

  'Oh . . . I fear his days are numbered. If Itztli does not have him slain, then he and his sister will be thrown into some dungeon to rot. I am sorry you had to see this. Colotlán was once a place . . . to be proud of.'

  'Is there nothing you can do to help us?' cried Nelson, his voice ragged with terror. 'There must be some way you can stop this!'

  Travers shook his head. 'You must . . . call on your own god,' he said. 'I . . . cannot . . . help you now.'

  With that, his head fell forward onto his chest and the two warriors bore him away. Now spears were prodding the captives towards the steps and there was nothing to do but climb them. They began to make their way slowly up to where Itztli waited, his obsidian dagger in his hand.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Blood Sacrifice

  They climbed until they were high above the crowds. Alec felt terror pulsing through him, but also a kind of inner defiance. Coates had told him not to show fear and he was determined to give a good account of himself.

  Nelson, on the other hand, was going to pieces. He was whimpering and shaking, his face streaming with sweat. 'This can't be happening,' he kept saying. 'I'm Ulysses T. Nelson.'

  Luis studied him for a moment and then said, 'Oh, shut up and try and act like a man.'

  Frank was muttering something to himself over and over: 'At least she's safe. At least she's safe.' There was no need to ask who he was talking about.

  Alec looked at Coates. 'I may never get a chance to say this again,' he said quietly. 'Thank you, Coates. For putting up with me all these years. I'm sorry for all the awful scrapes I've got us into.'

  Coates put a hand on his shoulder. 'It's been a privilege, Master Alec,' he replied. 'And I wouldn't change a thing.'

  Ethan glared at them. 'Will you two stop talking like that,' he said. 'I keep telling you, it ain't over till it's over.'

  All too soon they had reached the platform at the top of the pyramid. Behind them, spears kept prodding them forward. Alec found himself thinking about his father, feeling sorry that he would almost certainly never know what had become of his only child. He would learn perhaps of an encounter with bandits back in Veracruz, but would have no idea that it had actually ended here in an ancient Aztec city in the middle of the Huasteca Veracruzana.

  He heard a voice calling and turned to see Itztli standing by the altar beneath t
he giant statue of the lord of Mictlan, a cruel smile on his thin face. The god seemed to be observing the sacrifice, grinning down in cruel delight at Alec's fate. Itztli lifted his left hand and gestured to the undead warriors to bring forward the first victim. They began to prod Nelson forward and he cried out.

  'Not me!' he screamed. 'Not me, please – somebody else! Somebody else!'

  Luis stepped forward and asked him, 'Would you like me to take your place?'

  Nelson looked at him, a pathetic expression on his face. 'Yes,' he gasped. 'Please. Please, Luis, I can't . . . it can't be me. Not yet. It's not my time.'

  Luis nodded and smiled. He looked at the others. 'Imagine that,' he said with a strange smile. 'Señor Nelson is finally polite enough to say please.' Then he walked calmly across the summit of the pyramid towards the altar. As he did so, the stones shook – another powerful tremor was rippling through the earth and a great gout of flame rushed upwards into the heavens. Itztli stared down at the crowd and shouted something that made them roar their approval. Alec could easily guess the gist of what he had said: that the lord of Mictlan was showing his pleasure at the upcoming sacrifice.

  Warriors stepped forward to take Luis; he did not resist them. For a moment he looked across at Alec and gave him a wink. Alec thought that he had never seen a braver man. Next Luis was laid out on the altar and one of the priests ripped open his shirt, revealing his bare chest. He didn't struggle, but stayed absolutely still – though his lips moved. Alec thought that he must be saying a prayer.

  Now Itztli lifted the dagger in his hand, drawing another cheer from the assembled crowd, but Alec knew that they were showing approval only because they feared for their own lives.

  Itztli stepped closer and looked up at the sky. He shouted something in Nahuatl and then raised the dagger high. At the last instant Alec had to look away. He heard rather than saw what happened next; and when finally he summoned up the courage to look again, Luis's body was gone. There was a puddle of fresh blood at one end of the altar, and a heart was burning on a brazier.