Empire of the Skull

by Philip Caveney

  But now Itztli was beckoning again and the spears were prodding Nelson forward. He tried to move but his legs were shaking so much, he could hardly hold himself upright; he was sobbing like a child. Then another tremor shook the stone pyramid and a bigger flame launched itself into the sky, illuminating everything with a red glow. In that instant Nelson's nerve broke. He turned and began to run towards the steps. He rushed down them, fear giving him momentum.

  Itztli gave a grimace of irritation and gestured to one of the warriors who stood beside the other captives. The man walked calmly to the top of the steps and lifted his spear to take aim. He paused for a moment and flung it with deadly accuracy. It hit Nelson between the shoulder blades, the tip emerging from his chest. He still kept running, his feet barely touching the stone steps; then he missed his footing and his body went tumbling down into the crowd. The people closed in around him. An instant later, Alec saw a warrior lift the American's head and display it to the crowd, before mounting it on a skull rack.

  Alec turned away. He knew now that there was no hope for any of them. When Itztli pointed straight at him, he realized there was no point in putting off the inevitable. He took a step forward but Coates threw out an arm to restrain him.

  'No, Master Alec. Let me go in your place!'

  A curious sense of calm seemed to settle over Alec. He looked up into the kind face of his valet and thought that he was lucky to have known such a man. Ethan and Frank were trying to struggle forward too, but their guards held them tightly.

  'It's pointless delaying it,' Alec told Coates. 'If it's all the same to you, I'd rather get it over with.'

  Coates had tears in his eyes. 'Oh, Master Alec,' he said, 'I'm so sorry it has come to this!'

  Alec nodded. 'Me too.' He gave Coates a fierce hug and then glanced at Ethan. 'See you in a bit,' he said.

  'Don't give 'em the satisfaction of seeing you scared, kid!' yelled Ethan. 'When he lifts that dagger, spit in his eye!'

  Alec turned and walked towards the altar. He let the priests take his arms and legs and stretch him out across the cold stone. He felt hands ripping open his shirt but he did not struggle. He thought once again of his father and wished he could have got a message to him somehow. He lay there, staring up at the night sky, and then he felt a curious sensation. The altar beneath him was beginning to shake, but this time there was no sound. It felt as if an incredible power was building, deep in the bowels of the earth.

  Itztli seemed oblivious to it. He came forward and smiled mirthlessly down at Alec, his eyes flashing triumphantly. Alec stared back at him. Remembering what Ethan had said, he tried to summon up some spit, but his mouth was parched – but now he realized that the altar was vibrating violently. Then Alec heard a crack and chunks of stone were falling around him. A low murmur coming from within the pyramid quickly built to a roar. Itztli lifted the dagger but paused and turned to look behind and above him. Alec followed his gaze.

  The huge statue of Mictlantecuhtli was moving, shuddering as the new tremor grew stronger; and the cheers of the crowd were turning to cries of terror. The altar on which Alec lay suddenly dropped sharply to one side, flinging him off. He rolled, sat upright and turned to look at the statue. A great crack had appeared in one shoulder – a crack that widened as the stone began to shatter. Behind it, a huge wall of orange flame erupted into the night sky, lighting up everything in incredible detail. And then the stone shoulder detached itself, and as Alec watched, frozen in place, the statue itself began to tilt forward, driven by its own momentum. The other priests began to throw off their masks and run in all directions, but Itztli remained where he was, gazing up at the effigy of his god, which was now falling, falling.

  Suddenly an arm grabbed Alec and propelled him towards the steps. He realized it was Ethan – and then his friend was yelling 'Run!' into his ear, and he rushed down the steps – the steps that seemed to be collapsing beneath his feet. Glancing back, he saw Coates and Frank following him, and just behind them, perilously close, the giant statue was finally toppling over. Alec had one last glimpse of Itztli, dwarfed by the mass of falling rock, and then the statue fell on him, driving him deep into the hollow heart of the pyramid.

  Now the air was suddenly thick with ash, and Alec had to cover his mouth and nose with one hand.

  The thing that had been Tlaloc barred their path and swung a powerful fist. Ethan ducked the blow, and reaching up, grabbed the handle of the stone dagger that still protruded from between the creature's shoulders. He pulled it free, and as Tlaloc twisted round to grab at him, he slammed an elbow into his head and sent him sprawling down the steps in front of them, his limbs breaking off as he fell.

  'Come on!' yelled Ethan, and he led the way down the steps, slashing with the stone dagger at anyone who opposed him. The others followed hard on his heels.

  They started to run through a confusion of screaming, terrified people. Frank veered away from the others for a few moments and then reappeared, dragging Conchita behind him. Another of Mictlan's dead barred their way, and Ethan aimed a punch at it, sending it tumbling backwards.

  They emerged from the blanket of ash into an open space where the air was clearer. Here they hesitated for a moment, staring frantically this way and that, unsure which direction to take. Alec turned to look back at the pyramid and gave a gasp of astonishment, for now he saw that the entire edifice was tumbling inwards on itself as it fell into an ever-widening chasm – a chasm that spread closer and closer. An undead warrior came running towards him, an obsidian-tipped club raised to strike, but then the crack in the earth found his running feet and he dropped into the abyss.

  'Ethan!' yelled Alec.

  Ethan looked, saw, nodded. 'Come on!' he cried. 'This way!'

  He took off, racing down a narrow alleyway, and the others followed. Alec was horribly aware that, as they ran, the adobe walls behind were crashing to the ground. They turned a corner and saw the jetty ahead of them. A couple of women were helping two children into a dugout canoe. They turned, saw Alec and waved at him. Chicahua and Tepin were being taken to safety by Nelli and another of the wives. As they watched, the women started paddling away upriver – Alec wondered where they were making for. Their lives would certainly be very different from now on – he was sure of that. Chicahua looked stunned by what was happening. He lifted a chubby hand to wave and Alec saw that he was indeed nothing more than a frightened twelve-year-old boy. Tepin stood up and stared wistfully back; for a moment Alec thought she was going to jump out of the canoe and swim back to join him . . . But then she lowered her gaze and sat down beside her brother, throwing an arm protectively around his shoulders.

  There was no time to ponder the moment – dark shapes were shambling towards the docks. Ethan ran over to the biggest canoe and urged the others to follow. Frank helped Conchita in, then jumped in beside her, followed by Alec and Coates. Meanwhile Ethan bent down to untie the mooring rope. But behind him, two dark figures were racing along the wooden jetty to intercept them.

  Alec looked around frantically and his eyes lit upon a pile of fishing nets in the bottom of the boat, the ends weighted with heavy stones. Snatching up one of the nets, he whirled it round above his head several times to gain momentum. The nearest figure was just raising his spear to plunge it into Ethan's back as he struggled with the mooring rope, oblivious to the threat, when Alec threw the net, hoping against hope that his aim was true. It flew through the air, wrapped itself around the head of the warrior and threw him backwards into his companion, knocking both of them to the ground.

  Surprised, Ethan turned to look at the struggling figures on the jetty.

  'Come on!' Alec urged him.

  Ethan leaped into the canoe, and he and Frank both grabbed paddles, forcing it through the water with all their might, heading for the middle of the river where the current was strongest. In the stern, Alec turned to gaze back at the destruction behind them. Flames and ash were spewing up into the sky. There was now nothing to be seen of the grea
t step pyramid, and as far as Alec could see, nothing to tell the world that it had ever been there.

  Then he noticed an undead warrior with a bow standing on the jetty. As Alec watched, the creature nocked an arrow, aiming for the boat.

  'Watch out, everyone!' he yelled, and was about to throw himself down when something struck him in the left shoulder and flung him onto his back. He lay in the bottom of the canoe, gasping for breath, and then turned his head to see the long shaft of an arrow sticking out of his shoulder.

  'Master Alec!' Coates was kneeling beside him to examine the injury. 'Oh my lord, Mr Wade, he's been shot.'

  'I'm all right,' gasped Alec. It was true, he couldn't feel a thing – not until he tried to move, and then it was like somebody had poured acid into his shoulder. He gritted his teeth against the pain. A second arrow splashed down into the water a short distance behind the boat and Alec realized that they must be moving out of range. He looked up at Coates and forced a grin. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'I'm fine.'

  Now Ethan came scrambling back to his side, a grave expression on his face. He lifted Alec into a sitting position. 'It's gone right through,' he said. 'Alec, you're going to have to brace yourself.'

  Alec nodded. Ethan held the shaft end of the arrow and then quickly and decisively snapped off the feathered part. He looked at Alec. 'You OK?'

  Alec nodded, but he was aware of the sweat pouring down his face.

  'Now, I've got to pull the business end of this thing out of your shoulder,' he said. 'I'll try and be as quick as I can.'

  Alec nodded. He was scared, but even more afraid of leaving the arrow inside him. He knew from his research that many of the jungle tribes liked to poison the tips of their arrows. 'Do what you have to,' he said grimly.

  Coates held him while Ethan moved behind him, saying, 'Take a deep breath. I'm going to count to three. One . . . two . . .'

  But he pulled on two, and Alec felt the worst pain he had ever experienced in his life. It was like fire passing through his flesh. A redness seemed to swell in his head, and then it turned into the deepest black. He let out a long sigh and slipped into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Downriver

  They had been drifting downriver for several days now. Alec lay in the stern of the canoe, covered with an old blanket. He couldn't seem to stop shivering, though the sweat poured down his face.

  He was dying – he was convinced of it. He knew this from the way Ethan and Coates kept going off into a huddle, whispering to each other. There had been something on the head of that arrow – something that was slowly working its way into his system. His body was shutting itself down, bit by bit. How ironic, he thought, to have come so close to death up on the pyramid, only to be caught by a last arrow when he had almost escaped from the clutches of the city. He wasn't in too much pain. The whole of his shoulder was numb, and apart from a dull ache in his temples he might almost have been back in England, enjoying a lazy day on the river while his father rowed him along the Thames.

  The others took turns to sit with him, even Conchita, who after the ordeal in Colotlán seemed to have emerged a changed person. She was warm and caring, continuously dipping a piece of cloth in the river to cool his fevered brow. She told him about her life as a young chorus girl in Acapulco; and how she had mistakenly eaten dog back in the royal palace. He would have laughed at her stories if he'd had the strength.

  The men caught fish as they went downstream, using the other net in the bottom of the boat; and every evening they found a place to pull into the riverbank, so they could build a fire and cook their evening meal. Starting a fire with no matches called for every bit of ingenuity, particularly as they no longer had Luis's survival skills to call on. They had to twirl a length of dry wood between the palms of their hands, the end of it thrust into a notch cut into a piece of flat wood. The resulting friction eventually provided enough heat to ignite a couple of scraps of bark, but it took for ever and sometimes it was totally dark before the fish was cooking.

  Alec tried eating, knowing how important it was to keep up his strength, but within a few minutes he just vomited up everything he ate, and as the days slipped by, he grew steadily weaker. They saw no other people on the thickly forested banks of the river – just the occasional bird or some prowling cat slinking through the undergrowth.

  One afternoon, when Coates was sitting beside him, Alec decided it was time to speak of what was on his mind. 'Coates,' he said, 'when you get back to Veracruz—'

  'When we get back,' Coates corrected him.

  'I want you to tell my father that I'm sorry – for being so reckless.'

  'You'll be able to tell him that yourself,' Coates assured him.

  Alec shook his head and then groaned at the discomfort this caused him. 'I think we both know I'm done for,' he said. 'I want you to tell Father that it was all my fault. If I hadn't made you come and look at that Olmec head, we'd be back in Veracruz, safe and sound.'

  'Master Alec, you mustn't talk like that!' Alec was shocked to see that the valet's eyes were filling with tears. 'You're going to be just fine. It can't be long now before we reach a village and then . . . then we'll be able to get you some proper medical attention. You just have to hold on a little while longer.'

  But Alec could feel himself slipping away. He was so tired, so very tired . . . He closed his eyes and Coates's voice became a strange booming sound that seemed to be coming from a long way off.

  He opened his eyes again. It was night time, but the boat was still on the water. He wondered why they hadn't put in to the bank. A gentle hand was stroking his hair and he looked up to see that it was his mother, Hannah. He was amazed to see her here. Wasn't she dead, a year or more? She smiled down at him, and all his cares seemed to drift away.

  'What are you doing here?' he asked her, puzzled.

  'Can't a mother spend a little time with her son?' she asked him.

  'Yes, but . . . aren't you . . .?'He realized what must be happening and smiled up at her. 'I thought . . . I thought I'd never see you again,' he said.

  'But Alec, I'm always with you. Didn't you know that? Every step you take, I'm watching you. And I wanted you to know how proud I am of you.'

  'Proud?' He felt his own eyes misting with tears. 'I don't know what there is to be proud of. I made a mess of everything. I got everybody into such an awful scrape . . .'

  'Not a scrape,' said Hannah, shaking her head. 'An adventure, Alec. And Lord knows, there's precious little of that left in the world.'

  He forced a smile. 'You always let me get away with things,' he said.

  'I think you're confusing me with your father,' she whispered. She lifted her head and Alec saw that her face was suddenly lit up. They were moving towards the riverbank now and there was a light blazing, so bright it made him squint. There was a commotion at the water's edge: he could hear somebody shouting urgently. It sounded like Ethan.

  'What's happening?' he asked.

  Hannah turned and smiled down at him. 'Nothing for you to worry about,' she assured him. 'You rest now.'

  His eyelids felt like lead weights and sleep was dragging at him, pulling him back down into darkness, but there was one more question that he had to ask.

  'Am I dead?' he gasped, but no answer came to him and he could fight it no longer. He slipped down into blackness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Safe Haven

  Alec opened his eyes. His mother was still there, her hand stroking his hair. He smiled up at her but she seemed to shimmer like an apparition, and then she became somebody completely different. Conchita. She was looking down at him with a puzzled expression.

  'Why you keep calling me Mother?' she asked.

  Alec gazed up at her for a moment and then turned to look at his surroundings. He saw that he was lying in a proper bed under a thatched roof in what appeared to be a crude adobe dwelling. Questions came to him in a confused jumble, and he could barely manage to get the first of them out:
'Where . . . ? What . . . ? How . . .?'

  'Shush. You're still very weak,' Conchita told him. 'Here, have some of this.' She lifted a glass to his lips. The cool, clear water slipped down his throat, instantly restoring some of his vitality. He let it go down and was pleased to note that he didn't feel like throwing it straight up again. A good sign.

  'Where are we?' he asked. He reached out a hand to touch his shoulder and discovered that it was tightly bandaged.

  'We found a village,' Conchita told him. 'We only just got you here in time. You've been asleep for three days.'

  'Three days!' Alec tried to sit up but found he didn't have the strength. 'My mother . . . my mother was here . . . wasn't she?'

  'You mus' have been dreaming,' said Conchita. She smiled down at him. 'Ethan tol' me about your mother. She sounds like a very special lady.' Alec nodded. 'It was . . . as though she was with me,' he murmured. He looked around again. 'I could have sworn . . .' He shook his head. 'Tell me about the village.'

  'It's a missionary outpost,' said a familiar voice; and looking up,Alec saw that Ethan and Coates had just come in through the open doorway. Both of them were smiling with what looked suspiciously like relief. They came and stood beside the bed. 'You sure gave us a scare, kid,' said Ethan. 'You were pretty out of it. Father Ortega told me that the tribes around here have a nasty habit of scraping stuff off the back of a toad and dipping their arrowheads in it. We can't be sure, but we think that's what might have happened to you.'

  'Father Ortega?' said Alec.

  'A Catholic missionary,' explained Coates. 'He's been living in this village for a couple of years now, bringing Christianity to the people of the rainforest. We'd just about given up on you, and then we saw his lights burning on the riverbank.'

  Alec nodded. 'I think I remember the lights,' he said. He gestured to Conchita. 'Can I have a little more water, please?'