by Stephen Cole
‘Surely, we should –’
‘That treasure isn’t going anywhere,’ said Traynor. ‘And anyway – wouldn’t you sooner be invited to go inside?’
‘Of course.’ Tye saw Honor put on her meek act, while Traynor took a torch from the bodyguard and crossed confidently through the sinister mausoleum to the stairway. ‘Coatlicue’s dwelling place will be on the highest level,’ he announced. ‘The priests would have wanted as few barriers as possible between temple and sky, so as the Fifth Sun extinguished, the great goddess could escape to the highest heaven.’ He looked around at his followers, his smile almost satanic in the red, flickering light. ‘My friends, this is what we’ve all been waiting for. Let’s go.’
The other priests pushed past Tye and her bodyguard, eagerness overtaking their initial caution now. Ramez was pushed along in the grip of red-mouth and yellow-mouth. Even though he’d been drugged, they were clearly taking no chances.
‘Thought I heard something behind us,’ said yellow-mouth.
Red-mouth shook his head. ‘You’re just jumpy.’
Yellow-mouth looked at Tye. ‘What about her friends? Both those kids got away.’
Tye blinked sleepily back at him, though her heart started racing. So Jonah and Patch had escaped? Could they have somehow followed her, could they be coming to the rescue right now?
‘Relax,’ said red-mouth, who peered back down the passage towards the daylight. ‘There’s no one there.’
Tye felt a bitter disappointment – then gasped as she was hauled along up the stone steps by her bodyguard, the clatter of shoes and sandals up ahead creating weird echoes all around her.
‘Tread softly,’ Traynor hissed. ‘Have some respect.’
As they reached the next level of the temple, an old, rotting smell caught at Tye’s nostrils. In the flickering torchlight she caught phantom flashes of more stone biers, of shields and clubs and swords, of skeletons clothed in animal skins and feathers. Dead warriors, brought here to guard Coatlicue’s living spirit. Or maybe to nourish her – wasn’t she supposed to feed on the dead?
Whatever, Tye guessed that if there’d been time to linger, she’d find every one of those skeletons’ rib cages had been cracked clean open, so the priests could tug out the hot, slithery heart inside. A horrible image of Ramez lying on one of the biers flashed into her mind.
Traynor had already marched on, though Honor was looking nervously back down the stone steps. Guess she’s freaked out too, thought Tye, traipsing along behind her as they scaled the next flight of stone-flagged steps.
The steps gave on to a long, narrow, claustrophobic landing where Traynor and the others had already gathered in silence. His smoking torch illuminated a cluster of macabre skull-carvings, marking the edges of a dark entrance crafted in the shape of a giant serpent’s head.
‘This is it,’ breathed Traynor. ‘The holy place. Where Coatlicue’s attendants communed with the Presence.’
Honor turned to Tye’s bodyguard. ‘They may have left traps for the unwary,’ she said. ‘Put the girl inside first.’
The other priests made way and Tye was pushed through the dark entrance. It was freezing cold in here. Behind her someone held their torch up, but its light grew pale as the flames waned and flickered. An instinctive feeling of dread enveloped her. The chamber was large and circular. Seven stone pillars formed an inner circle, ranged around a gigantic, terrifying statue.
It was the goddess Coatlicue, but depicted more vividly and nightmarishly than any image Tye had ever seen. The eyes of the two serpents coiling out from the severed neck seemed fixed upon her, as their heads met in profile to form a face. Huge, pointed claws tipped her slab-like hands and feet. The tangle of snakes that formed her skirt seemed to writhe in the flickering light of the torch, and as smoke blew across the chamber it seemed to animate the hands and hearts carved into the statue’s broad chest, making them twitch and pulse as if with a power of their own. Tye found herself praying to the voodoo spirits for protection.
Xavier’s voice floated eerily out from behind her. ‘No traps that I can see.’
‘Keep the girl and Ramez at the back for now,’ Traynor instructed the bodyguards. ‘No unbeliever must be allowed to step inside the inner circle.’ One of them walked uncertainly up to her, gripped her arm and steered her towards the shadows in the back of the room. Tye found that his big hand on her arm was actually something of a comfort.
She watched, a sick feeling slowly building in her chest, as the Sixth Sun devotees filed into the dark, smoky chamber. No longer did they seem jokey and out-of-place in their weird get-up. This dank, sinister world was one where they could move freely and in comfort. They did not talk, or smile, or even look at each other. They simply took up places around the temple with the ease of well-rehearsed actors finding their marks.
Two of the priests, Douglas and one other, produced a steel flight case and removed small glass phials from within. Tye shuddered – they had to be the biological agents, Traynor’s chemical weapons.
‘See? Just as the craftman’s drawing showed us.’ Traynor’s voice was rapt. ‘These indentations ranged round the statue aren’t as deep as I’d imagined but … Well, thirteen of them, it’s perfect.’
‘Destined to be,’ Douglas agreed happily.
‘Place one phial in each.’ Carefully, the two men began to do so, and Traynor cackled. ‘This truly is our destiny, my friends.’
‘Thought you said nothing out of place in here?’ Tye burst out – then bit her lip. She was supposed to be drugged, and hastily added a long, drawn-out yawn.
But Traynor didn’t even look round from overseeing the work.
‘Coatlicue understands disease only too well. It decimated her people.’ His voice fell to a low, reverent whisper. ‘The prophecy says she will feed on the poison in men. Well, there is so much poison in these phials … Thanks to them she can gorge herself on the deaths of her enemies. She must see the phials. She must bless the poison inside …’
Tye nodded, sickened. So you can kid yourself you’re doing holy work instead of committing mass murder. She watched as the phials were neatly lined up in a semi-circle around the statue. It was like she was watching a bunch of kids trying to impress their teacher at some kind of twisted ‘show and tell’.
Another of the priests opened the long, mahogany box and carefully removed Cortes’s sword from inside. Tye could almost imagine the mass of serpents coiling down from the statue’s waist, craning to see as the sword was laid in the centre of the inner circle, its handle presented to the monstrous claws.
Then the priests cleared the inner circle. Averting her eyes from the statue, Tye looked at the sword – and noticed a part of the blade was gleaming. She blinked, but the effect continued. Not a trick of the half-light then, but –
She turned and stared into the inky blackness behind her – and saw a chink of sunshine peeping in through the old, cold stone. She shivered. It was as if the outside world, with all its warmth and light and normality, had been reduced to the faintest glimmer by the darkness of this place. She glanced across at Ramez, who was staring straight ahead. There has to be a way out of this, she thought. I could grab those phials – or kick them over. I could take the sword, threaten to damage it – no, threaten to use it unless they set Ramez free. I could –
But she felt the strength of the bodyguard’s grip on her wrist and knew she’d have to struggle to break free in the first place. That would lose her the advantage of surprise that Coldhardt had taught her was vital when the odds were stacked against you.
‘We’re ready to begin,’ Traynor announced, his words echoing strangely round the cold, dank curves of the chamber. He entered the inner circle and stood astride the sword at its centre while his followers retreated to positions either side of the pillars. Only Honor wasn’t attentive; she seemed more resigned than anything else. In one hand she held a long, dark flint knife.
As high priestess, the kill would be hers. And Tye co
uld see from the casual way she held herself, that it meant nothing at all.
‘Great goddess Coatlicue!’ Traynor began, raising his voice and his arms to the shadows, the folds of his jaguar robe rippling about him like the flames of the sputtering torches. ‘You who endure while fragile men fail and die. You who gave shade to those who lived on the Earth, we enter your sacred domain. We are your new attendants. We pray you hear us.’
‘Hear us,’ chanted the priests.
‘We know that your rule over men was broken by the invading conquistadores.’
‘Though it be made of jade, it breaks,’ the priests intoned, their voices low and reverent.
‘Your great knowledge, your power, was thought lost.’
‘Though it be made of gold, it grows dull.’
‘Your glorious existence was dismissed as primitive myth.’
‘Though it be made of plumes from the quetzal, it shreds apart.’
Tye bit her lip and shivered. It seemed to be growing colder and colder in here.
‘But know this – it is we who have awakened you.’ A new fervour was creeping into Traynor’s voice. ‘It is we who have shaken the earth and raised your world from out of the darkness. It is we who bring the sword of your conqueror to break at your feet.’
‘As eagles we fly to you. As jaguars we run to you.’
All eyes were on Traynor.
Tye knew that now was the time to act.
She elbowed her guard in the stomach with all her strength, wrenching her arm free of his grip at the same time. Whirling round, she swung her fist at the big man – but the blow fell wide, he ducked easily aside, grabbed her wrist and twisted it painfully behind her back. ‘No!’ she shouted – I messed up, I blew it – ‘You’re crazy, all of you!’ The bodyguard’s big, clammy hand wedged over her mouth. She saw Ramez was looking at her. For a second he almost looked his old self. Then the glazed look returned to his eyes and his head lolled forwards.
She felt something sharp dig into the cut in her side and gasped with pain. She realised Honor was beside her with the knife. ‘Just one more word and I’ll be using this twice,’ the woman warned her.
Traynor was carrying on as if nothing had happened, his voice ringing out around the temple. ‘It is we who arrest the passing of the Suns, we who seek to start a new era where your word will be law. A Sixth Sun, not only in this land, but in all lands.’ His voice dropped to an urgent whisper as he stared up at the hideous statue. ‘Your mind has touched mine before. Know me again, great goddess … as I bring you fresh blood.’
‘As jaguars we kill for you.’
‘I bring you a boy made fit for your feast by the old traditions.’ He snapped his fingers without turning round. ‘As prophecy demands, we your attendants shall reach into his heart as we reach into our own hearts, and restore you to strength.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Bring Ramez to me.’
The guard brought the unresisting Ramez to the outer edge of the inner circle. With a last warning look at Tye, Honor crossed back to the centre of the action. She took one of Ramez’s arms and Traynor gripped the other. The bodyguard stepped back.
‘You are honoured, Ramez,’ said Traynor, forcing him down on the temple floor. ‘You never amounted to a thing in this world. But in giving your life to a goddess, she shall in return give eternal life to you. You shall know paradise.’
‘Come, little hummingbird.’ Honor was pulling open Ramez’s shirt, exposing his smooth, toned flesh. ‘Let the offering be made.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tye writhed desperately in the bodyguard’s grip. She had to break free, had to reach Ramez, struggled harder –
And then the voice rang out.
‘The child is not fit to be sacrificed.’ Harsh, high and terrible, the screech reverberated around the chamber.
The circle erupted in fear and confusion. Priests reeled back, or clutched hold of each other in fear. Shouts and gasps went up, Honor jumped to her feet and rounded on the statue, wielding the knife. Ramez pushed himself up on his elbows, staring round in terror.
‘Great goddess?’ Traynor’s voice was wary and low, he was holding himself completely still. ‘This is not how you came to me before.’
‘Bow down to me!’ came the commanding shriek. ‘Fall to your knees! All of you!’
And through a mouthful of thick and trembling fingers, Tye grinned in joyful disbelief.
Because however well disguised, she knew Con’s voice when she heard it.
People were falling to their knees all around, and Tye went limp in the bodyguard’s grip, making out she’d fainted. But the bodyguard could barely have noticed, he was hurrying to kneel as well.
‘Lower your unworthy eyes from my image!’ Con ranted in full-on goddess mode. ‘Or you will be punished, yes?’
‘No!’ shouted Traynor suddenly. ‘Get up you fools, it’s a trick –’
‘Now!’ came a shout.
It was Jonah’s voice – and the cue for all Mictlan to break loose in the temple.
Jonah launched himself through the smoky haze into the inner circle, Motti right beside him. With a bellow, Motti hurled himself at Traynor, bringing him down.
The sound of shouts and fighting filled the temple with hard, noisy echoes. The confusion and chaos was tinted blood red by the flaming torchlight. Jonah made for Honor and knocked the knife from her hand, she snarled with anger – but then someone grabbed Jonah round the waist, yanking him backwards. Jonah spun round, trying to free himself, and managed to crush his attacker against one of the pillars. Another priest appeared instantly to take his place, an old man with a cloak. Jonah ducked a fairly weak blow and then floored the old guy with a punch to the jaw.
But where was Honor now? She’d vanished from view, like Motti and Traynor – was she hiding? Jonah knew just how well you could hide in those thick, freezing shadows. It had been agony, seeing Tye so helpless but with no way of getting to her, as he and the others waited to grab their best chance of taking Sixth Sun off-guard. Unable to clear the rubble at the entrance, they’d climbed the sides of the pyramid and loosened a slab of plaster from an upper storey. They’d finished up in here, with barely enough time to replace the slab before Traynor led his party crashing out of the jungle. Coldhardt had taken Patch off to explore one of the lower levels, but Jonah had persuaded the others to stay and help him try to save Tye…
Staring round at the chaos as the temple filled with smoke from the billowing torches, he decided he was insane for ever thinking they could pull this off.
Another priest rushed for Jonah but stumbled over the old man’s body and crashed into the statue of Coatlicue. As he tried to right himself, a pair of well-manicured hands reached round from behind the hideous figure, grabbed him by the ears and whacked his head against the carved stone, knocking him out cold.
As the priest collapsed to the floor, Con burst from behind the statue. ‘This is madness!’ she shouted, high-kicking Xavier under the chin as he rushed for her, sending him sprawling back into the smoke and shadows. ‘We should be with Patch stealing that treasure.’
‘Did you see where Honor went?’ Jonah glanced at the ground and saw the sacrifice had gone – along with Cortes’s sword. ‘Where’s Ramez – did Tye get to him? Where is Tye?’ He stared round in confusion, but it was too dark and smoky to see far. ‘And where’s Motti?’
Suddenly Motti loomed up in front of him, glasses smashed and buckled, one eye bloody and black. ‘Where’s the goddamned exit?’ he said weakly, before falling to his knees. Then Con shouted out as a guy with a strip of red across his mouth tackled her and brought her down. She grappled with him on the temple floor.
Before Jonah could go to help her, Traynor came out of the shadows, his feathered headdress discarded, his robe and tunic torn. ‘You’re gonna pay for this.’ He advanced on Jonah, wielding Cortes’s sword like a Samurai. ‘You’re gonna pay with every last pint of your blood.’
With a sudden scream of rage, Traynor
hurled himself at Jonah.
In the darkness beside the outer wall, Tye brought her elbow back with a crack against her bodyguard’s face then lunged forwards to break his grip. Throwing herself on to her back, she kicked him hard in the chest with both feet. Propelled backwards, he hit the wall with a thunderous crash, knocking out a stone slab from the fake window in the wall. Sunlight peeped timidly inside, filtered by the canopy of trees. But as it turned the smoke opaque, it actually made things harder to see.
Scrambling up, Tye peered through the haze and saw Con trying to drag an injured Motti clear of the fighting, even while red-mouth had hold of her leg. Her stomach twisted as she glimpsed Jonah ducking back behind the statue of Coatlicue, Traynor raising the sword of Cortes above his head.
It was as she was running to help that she realised Ramez was no longer on the ground.
Then suddenly the other bodyguard jumped on top of her, brought her down, his big hands fumbling for her throat. No time to waste on you, she thought. She slammed her hands down hard on his ears and twisted his head round with all her strength. He shouted out and rolled off her, clutching at his neck. But then yellow-mouth loomed up, grabbed hold of her arm, and tried to get her in a half-nelson.
‘Will you just give up and let me go!’ she shouted, anger giving her strength as she twisted her arm clear. She delivered a roundhouse kick to the man’s stomach, and when he doubled up, she punched him once – twice – in his stupid yellow mouth, before her final uppercut slammed him into one of the pillars.
Shaking her aching hand, Tye stared through the smoke; in just a few seconds everything seemed to have changed. Motti looked a mess, out of it, slumped on the floor. Con was matching red-mouth blow for blow, but there were others crowding round to deal with her in turn. Jonah was playing cat and mouse with Traynor, who was now lunging wildly with his priceless sword. Honor was still nowhere to be seen and neither was Ramez – he’d been drugged, he would be vulnerable, helpless.
