Serpent and Storm (20 page)

Sky Knife leaned against the wall and looked at the Guardian. The blackness emanating from it was like the black of his own glass blade. It was hard and bright, unrelenting.

Perhaps, then, brittle as well. A glass blade was strong and sharp, but could be easily shattered into millions of razor-thin slivers, each eager to slice flesh or bone.

Sky Knife reached for his knife.

“No,” said the Guardian. “Your god cannot help you here.”

Sky Knife paid no attention.

Deer watched him warily. “What will you do?” he asked. “If you're not going to take my heart—what can you do? Can you take
his?
” Deer pointed toward the Guardian.

“I don't think so,” said Sky Knife.

“He's just a man,” said Deer.

“But the Center is within him,” said Sky Knife. “How can a man sacrifice a god?” Sky Knife drew his blade out of the bag.

The black glass glade glittered in the lightning flashes, but mostly it reflected the blue light from the ball that hovered against the ceiling of the tunnel.

“The gods can die,” said Deer.

“The gods can die,” agreed the Guardian. “But I am not one of them. The gods are subject to time, but I am the Center, and the Center is outside of time. The Center is forever.”

The words rang true. Sky Knife tried not to be awed by what they meant—before him stood a man possessed by a power greater than the gods. It was beyond them, its mysteries and powers as unknown to the gods as they were to Sky Knife. Sky Knife put such thoughts aside and tried to concentrate on the blade. Perhaps one darkness could shatter the other.

Deer seemed to be insulted rather than awed. He put his hands on his hips and shouted at the Guardian. “You speak nonsense! The gods of Teotihuacan are mighty!”

“They are but gods,” said the Guardian with disdain.

Deer screamed and leaped for the Guardian.

“No!” shouted Sky Knife.

Lightning burst forth from the Guardian's fingers and wrapped its sizzling coils around the dwarf. Sky Knife ran forward, but more lightning knocked him down. The blue ball of light flickered out. Sky Knife's knife flew from his hands into the sudden darkness of the tunnel behind him.

Sky Knife pulled himself to his hands and knees and crawled toward Deer. “Let him go,” he said.

A sudden searing pain tore at him from his nose to his lungs, choking him. Sky Knife took in a big gulp of cold air and screamed as it made the fiery agony in his nose and throat worse.

Trembling with pain, Sky Knife draped himself across the still body of Deer, trying to get between the other man and the Guardian. He breathed in small sips of air through his nose to minimize the pain.

The lightning that engulfed Deer felt warm and comforting for a moment, as if it hadn't noticed him. Then the terrible stinging and burning assailed him from face to toes.

Sky Knife moaned in agony but refused to roll off of Deer. There had to be a way out of this. A way to save his friend.

Sky Knife's heart ached with the need to scream, but he clamped his lips shut and refused to give voice to his pain. Not anymore.

The lightning hissed along his limbs and body, burning him everywhere it touched. Sky Knife closed his eyes and concentrated on the pain, on pushing it aside.

The lightning rammed right into his mind. Despite his resolve, Sky Knife heard screaming and knew it was him. The lightning flicked along his memories, his thoughts. Sky Knife struggled to fight it, to resist its heat and power.

But the light only claimed him more tightly. Desperate and exhausted, Sky Knife relaxed and let the light go where it would.

Suddenly, the pain was easier to bear. Sky Knife gingerly concentrated on the light in his mind and focused it as he would focus his thoughts to form a ball of fire to illuminate his way.

Perhaps the Guardian sensed what he was doing—the light redoubled its efforts to crush him in its coils and take his mind from him. But Sky Knife had its measure now. He eased his mind into the relaxed state he always used before using a knife or stingray spine on himself.

Against his calm, the light had no power. Sky Knife pushed it slowly from his mind, toward the Center. With a mental heave, he shoved the lightning at the Guardian.

A deep, pain-filled bellow filled the tunnel. Sky Knife clamped his hands over his ears while the howling continued. Then it stopped.

Sky Knife opened his eyes. Inky blackness surrounded him. Sky Knife tried to call up a light, but he was too tired. He felt around the tunnel floor for Deer. Somehow in the struggle with the Guardian, he must have rolled away from the other man.

His questing hands touched flesh and cloth. Sky Knife ran his hands along the body. It was a leg, far too long to be Deer's.

“Whiskers-of-Rat?” he asked. He felt for the other person's neck, but about halfway up the torso, the other person was covered with pebbles that must have rained down from the tunnel ceiling.

The torso twitched. Sky Knife scooped handful after handful of rocks and pebbles off the man. The man coughed.

“Whiskers-of-Rat?”

A grunt was the only answer he received. Sky Knife patted Whiskers-of-Rat's hand. “I'll be back,” he said. “I've got to find Deer.”

The feeble glow of an oil lamp cut the darkness. Even its light in his darkness-blinded eyes made Sky Knife blink in pain.

“What have we here?” asked a familiar voice.

“Dark Lightning,” said Sky Knife.

“Maya priest, you amaze me,” said the traitorous ballplayer. “Don't tell me you've come all this way and suffered for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” said Sky Knife. “I will have the child.” Sky Knife spoke with conviction even though to his ears he sounded ridiculous. Exhausted as Sky Knife now was, Dark Lightning could merely walk over and stomp him to death.

Dark Lightning laughed. “You look more ragged than a child's old corn husk doll. You're no threat to us.”

Several other men stepped out from behind Dark Lightning. Two reached down and each grabbed one of Sky Knife's elbows. They yanked him to his feet.

Sky Knife gritted his teeth together and kept his pain to himself. Right now, he had to agree with Dark Lightning—he certainly didn't feel like a threat to anyone.

But Dark Lightning didn't seem eager to kill out of hand, or the boy would already be dead. Sky Knife held on to that thought as the two men dragged him into the Center.

19

The two men propelled Sky Knife through the narrowed neck of the tunnel and into the cave beyond. Oil lamps around the perimeter lit the cavern so well that only the deepest corners sat in shadow.

One of the men elbowed Sky Knife in the ear. Sky Knife gasped and dropped to his knees, head ringing.

“You're more trouble than you're worth. We ought to just kill you,” growled the man.

“Not yet,” said Dark Lightning. “He has some questions to answer. Bring him over here.”

The two men pulled Sky Knife forward without allowing him to get his feet under him. His knees scraped painfully against the pebbly floor.

His captors threw him down. Sky Knife's face hit the floor. He bit his tongue and tasted blood.

It was tempting to just stay where he was and let the pain slowly ebb according to its own rhythms, but Sky Knife couldn't do that. He was the High Priest of Itzamna. He would stand before his enemies until they killed him.

Sky Knife got his hands under him on the strangely slick floor. He must be bleeding more than he knew. Slowly, he pushed himself up.

“No, I don't think so,” said Dark Lightning. A foot slammed down into the middle of Sky Knife's back, driving him to the floor again. Sharp stones sliced open the skin of his chest and abdomen.

“Now, you're going to answer some questions for me,” said Dark Lightning.

“Like what?” Sky Knife mumbled against the slick stone floor.

“You're going to tell me what just happened here. One minute we're perfectly safe and the next, lightning is crackling all over. Two of my men are dead.”

Sky Knife refrained from saying “Good.”

“Well?” demanded Dark Lightning.

“This is the Center of All,” said Sky Knife.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“It's the answer to your question,” said Sky Knife. “Is the boy here? Is he safe?”

The foot prodded Sky Knife's back again. “I'm asking the questions. Did my sister send you here? Did she send you to kill me?”

“Your sister doesn't really believe you'd do this,” said Sky Knife.

“So who sent you?”

“The Masked One.”

“Impossible,” said another man. Sky Knife recognized the voice of Leather Apron. “We are here to honor the Masked One, to see she gets the proper devotion she deserves from Teotihuacan and its king. The Storm God must bow to the Masked One. He was never her equal, even if his priests tell the king so.”

“Heart's blood,” said another man. “Look!”

The pressure on Sky Knife's back disappeared.

“What's going on here?” asked Dark Lightning. “What are you doing?”

Sky Knife struggled to push himself up. “I have no idea,” he said. “What do you mean?”

“Don't get too close to him,” said Leather Apron. “I told you, we should have killed him before. We have no idea how much power he has.”

“He's just an iguana priest,” said Dark Lightning. “His lizard god's power can't compare to the Masked One.”

Sky Knife eased into a sitting position. He wiped blood away from his face and looked around.

The cavern consisted of four rooms clustered around a lower central point. Sky Knife shivered. This
was
the Center of All—the sacred quincunx. Now he understood the true reason for the shape of the Teotihuacan ballcourt.

At the bottom of the depression in the middle of the cavern sat Black Coyote. He had been gagged but was unbound. Tears streaked his face and his hair stuck out in all directions.

“You have to release the boy now before things get worse, Dark Lightning,” said Sky Knife.

“No,” said the ballplayer. He was dressed in the long purple skirt and feather-and-bead chestplate he had worn at the king's last meal. “I will be king.”

“Grasping Fire will be king if you kill the boy,” said Sky Knife. “Are you planning his death, too?”

“Grasping Fire can never be king,” said Dark Lightning. “He is a murderer and therefore unsuitable. Even the Storm God wouldn't choose him.”

“What?” asked Sky Knife.

“Yes,” said Dark Lightning. “I assume he never told you that.”

Sky Knife paused. A murderer? “Whom did he kill? When?”

Dark Lightning laughed. “You may have power, Maya priest, but not the power to make me answer your questions.”

“Kill him,” urged Leather Apron. “If you won't, I will.”

“We don't dare,” said Dark Lightning. “His god will have his vengeance on us.”

Leather Apron didn't answer that. Sky Knife glanced from one man to the other. Leather Apron and Dark Lightning stood a few feet away. Behind them stood several men in ballplayer uniforms. Dark Lightning put a foot forward as if to step up to Sky Knife, but hesitated, then took a step backward instead. The ballplayers behind him averted their eyes.

Sky Knife glanced down at himself and saw nothing wrong. His clothing and jewelry were all in place. Only the blood on his hand stood out.

Sky Knife looked again, uneasy. Nothing
was
wrong—that was just it. No dust from the floor clung to him. Despite the pain of wounds underneath his tunic and skirt, his clothing was whole. Even the feathers of the headdress were bright and unbroken. They gleamed brightly green and blue in the lamplight.

He still tasted blood, though. The split in his lip remained. It seemed that the Center might refuse to tear his clothing but was eager for his blood.

Sky Knife's hand went to the bag at his waist. It was empty. He remembered now—he had dropped the knife in the tunnel outside during the struggle with the Guardian.

“Explain this,” demanded Dark Lightning.

“I can't,” said Sky Knife. “I don't know what's happening here.”

“You must know,” said Dark Lightning. “When we dragged you in here, you were covered with dirt and blood. Half the feathers in your headdress were missing. Now you look as though you're ready for a ceremony.”

“I can't explain it,” said Sky Knife. He climbed to his feet. Spots dotted his vision momentarily and he almost stumbled, but he took a deep breath and kept on his feet.

Sky Knife walked toward the depression in the center of the room. Several feet away from the boy, something stopped him. Sky Knife put out his hands. An invisible barrier separated him from Black Coyote.

“What have you done with the king?” asked Sky Knife.

“Nothing,” said Dark Lightning.

“Kill him—now!” urged Leather Apron again.

“Very well,” said Dark Lightning. “It seems we'll get nothing from him this way.”

Sky Knife spun around to face his opponents. Leather Apron grabbed a spear and thrust it toward him. Sky Knife leaped aside. He stumbled on the uneven surface and fell. Sky Knife rolled over and came up on his feet.

Leather Apron stabbed again at Sky Knife. The priest grabbed the shaft of the spear just behind the point and pushed his weight toward the other man.

Leather Apron lost his balance and fell over backwards, letting go of the spear. Sky Knife rammed the butt of the spear into Leather Apron's gut.

Leather Apron made an
ooph
sound and his face reddened. Sky Knife stepped back and turned the spear around to face the other ballplayers and Dark Lightning.

“Free the king,” said Sky Knife. “Or you'll find out just how much power I have.”

Dark Lightning regarded him evenly while Leather Apron climbed painfully to his feet. “No, I don't think so,” he said. “The spell we got was very specific. It will keep the king here at this location until I dispel it. Only I can do that, so if you want the king alive, you'll think twice before sticking me with that spear.”