Serpent and Storm (23 page)

“Too generous. You cannot allow Grasping Fire or the boy to live,” said Mirror. “You must end the line of Forked-Tongue Serpent and set up your own dynasty.”

Dark Lightning shook his head. “My sister will never marry me if I harm her son. He will have to live out his life in our home village and never return here.”

Mirror grimaced and shook his head. “Fine. You're the king,” he said. “But this had better work.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Hardly, since if you fail, I fail,” said Mirror. “I just hope you realize the danger in leaving even one of your enemies alive.”

“I have considered it,” said Dark Lightning. “Very carefully.”

Mirror threw out his hands in frustration and stomped off. Dark Lightning knelt by Sky Knife.

“So, we have a little time, priest,” he said. “What would you like to do first?”

“Where's Deer?” Sky Knife licked a few drops of water off his lips with a thick tongue. When had he last had something to drink? He couldn't remember. And he had done a lot of sorcery since. Normally, he needed to eat, drink, and sleep after exerting his powers. But Sky Knife said nothing about his thirst. No doubt Dark Lightning would be thrilled to hear of it.

“He's safe for the moment,” said Dark Lightning. “My sister's plans can't proceed without him, so she is stymied while we hold him alive.”

Sky Knife looked into the dark eyes of Dark Lightning. Fear lurked in them. Fear and hate. But not strength. No matter that the other man plotted against the king, he just didn't seem to fit the mold of power-mad villain.

“You said you didn't kill the king,” said Sky Knife. “Is that true?”

Dark Lightning regarded him a moment. “Yes. Why? Are you prepared to believe me?”

Sky Knife tried to shrug, failed. “I don't know,” he said. “You don't seem like a man who kills easily. In fact, you don't seem like a man who plans to take over a city, either.”

Fear crossed Dark Lightning's face. “What do you mean by that?”

The fear confirmed Sky Knife's suspicion. “Who killed the king?” he asked. “Who planned this for you? Who convinced you that betraying your sister was the right thing to do? Who suggested taking Jaguar's Daughter as wife?”

Dark Lightning kicked Sky Knife in the ribs. Sky Knife grunted as the pain in his side radiated all over his body. “I did it all,” insisted Dark Lightning. “And my sister—Thistle—will be my mate because that way our family will own the mat of rulership doubly securely.”

“Thistle?”

“Her childhood name,” said Dark Lightning. “She gave it up to be the Jaguar's Daughter—she chose the protection of the Spotted Jaguar over the Masked One. She will see the error of her ways and take up the name that is rightfully hers.”

Sky Knife shook his head. “It isn't that easy to give up the protection of a god.”

“The Masked One is greater than the Spotted Jaguar. He will have to be content with forfeiting his protection of my sister in deference to the Masked One. You won't live to see any of this. Perhaps I
haven't
killed a man before, but I'm ready to start with you.”

“Then get on with it,” said Sky Knife. “The day begins.”

7 Chicchan 17 Cumku. Sky Knife could feel it in his bones. Three days until Lamat, the first of the unlucky days of Uayeb.

Only, if Dark Lightning had his way, Sky Knife wouldn't see the unlucky days this year or ever again.

Dark Lightning prodded Sky Knife with his foot. “I have been debating just what method to use on you. You've caused me a great deal of trouble and cost me a trusted friend in Leather Apron.”

Sky Knife tested his bonds, but the leather had been tied securely.

“I think perhaps you can suffer through a peculiar custom of ours,” said Dark Lightning. “Normally, the sacrifice is killed first before skin is taken, but I don't feel that generous with you right now.”

Sky Knife trembled. He had attended enough sacrifices to know the terrible fear of the knife the sacrifices suffered. He knew if he ever had to go under the knife, he would be very afraid. But what Dark Lightning proposed was infinitely worse. The
p'a chi,
if done properly, freed the soul from the body within moments. Dark Lightning had something very different in mind.

“Bring me a knife, will you?” called Dark Lightning.

Another ballplayer, his hair fashioned like Dark Lightning's, jogged over and handed Dark Lightning a thin prismatic blade.

Dark Lightning knelt by Sky Knife's head and passed the blade in front of his eyes slowly. “Isn't it beautiful?” he asked.

Sky Knife had to agree, even through his fear. The six-inch blade was wafer thin and barely a finger's width wide. It was unhafted—one end had been fashioned into a murderous point while the other had been made blunt. Dark Lightning held the blunt end of the darkly green knife. The green obsidian was local to Teotihuacan. Sky Knife had seen pieces of it before, but nothing as fine as this.

“It's very delicate,” said Dark Lightning, “but your blood will strengthen it. The knife is always eager to drink blood.”

Dark Lightning pressed the knife against Sky Knife's cheek. The stone was cold, but warmed quickly in contact with his skin.

“Normally, we start the flaying on the back side,” said Dark Lightning. “But I'm not having you untied just to follow custom.”

Dark Lightning moved the knife to Sky Knife's shoulder and made a shallow slice across his chest. The stinging of the wound competed with a fierce tickle as the blood leaked out drop by drop and sat, quivering, on his collarbones.

Dark Lightning made a slice down Sky Knife's side, then across past his stomach to his groin. Then he made another cut across Sky Knife's hips. There wasn't as much pain as Sky Knife expected. The blade cut cleanly and Dark Lightning did not cut deep. So far, Sky Knife felt a sharp stinging sensation, nothing more. He had suffered far worse during his daily devotions.

Dark Lightning continued by making a cut down each of Sky Knife's legs to his toes.

Dark Lightning eased the end of the blade under the skin of Sky Knife's foot and pried up a small section. Tears ran down Sky Knife's face at the sudden intense pain and he jerked his foot in response. Red-hot fury ran up his leg and squirmed around Sky Knife's heart. He gasped.

“Ah, got you there,” said Dark Lightning. “Let's try that again.”

“My Lord!” shouted someone.

Dark Lightning looked up. “I don't want to be interrupted,” he said.

A warrior jogged into Sky Knife's view. “We were expecting a patrol to return from the extreme northeast quadrant, but they never did. A second patrol was ambushed. The lone survivor has just returned. It seems Grasping Fire is stronger in that area than we thought.”

Dark Lightning growled, “And is Grasping Fire there? And my sister?”

“I don't know, Lord,” said the warrior. “We have been unable to determine the location of any of the royal family.”

Sky Knife's heart soared. Perhaps Mirror was the only traitor near the king's family. If so, they had lost their easy access to the family. His hope warred with his own fear. Dark Lightning had hardly gotten started—Sky Knife had felt only a brief kiss of true pain. It would get much worse before the end. Sky Knife trembled and tugged at his bonds.

“That is impossible,” said Dark Lightning. “What does our contact have to say?”

“She has sent no word,” said the warrior. “She is due to send again before noon.”

“Fine,” said Dark Lightning. “Inform me when she does. And send another patrol into the northeast. We must know what Grasping Fire is doing.”

“Yes, Lord.” The warrior left.

Dark Lightning rubbed his face with a hand, looking weary.

“Lord!” Mirror approached.

“What is it?” snapped Dark Lightning. “I just got the report. I don't need it twice.”

“Of course. But it's the twin. He won't eat. And he doesn't look very well.”

“Then keep an eye on him and let me know if he gets sick or dies,” said Dark Lightning. “Now, can I have some time alone here, eh?”

“Of course, Lord.” Mirror bowed and left.

Dark Lightning noted the renewed spark in Sky Knife's eyes. “Don't get your hopes up,” he said. “Grasping Fire's forces will fall to us. He is a poor judge of character or situation.”

“And you are better,” said Sky Knife.

Dark Lightning stabbed Sky Knife's thigh with the blade. Sky Knife jerked and screamed. Dark Lightning worked the blade deeper and deeper. Sky Knife screamed again, the waves of agony washing over him from his leg, blinding him to anything else.

Dark Lightning withdrew the knife. “Don't be sarcastic with me, priest,” he said. “I'm a king.”

Sky Knife bit his lip and concentrated on evening out his breathing, letting the pain slide by him without touching his soul, as he did during his auto-sacrifice sessions in his daily devotions. It was harder this time. He'd never had this much pain before. But slowly, he fought the pain back. Sky Knife relaxed his muscles one by one.

“Very good,” said Dark Lightning. He moved the knife to Sky Knife's chest and slowly carved a spiral into Sky Knife's flesh. The obsidian blade grated against his ribs. Sky Knife fought the urge to scream as more burning pain seared his heart and mind.

When he had finished the design, Dark Lightning looked at it closely. “You know,” he said. “If I pull up the very inside of this spiral, I ought to be able to rip up all of this skin right after it. I could probably peel your entire body the same way.”

Dark Lightning pushed the blade under the skin at the center of Sky Knife's chest.

“Damn,” said Dark Lightning. With his free hand, he wiped blood off of Sky Knife's chest. Sky Knife realized what must have happened: the wounds in his chest had bled so that they obscured Dark Lightning's design.

“Lord.” It was Mirror again. Sky Knife breathed in relief at the interruption.

Dark Lightning stood and turned angrily to face Mirror. “Did I not say to leave me alone with him? Didn't I, eh?”

“Yes, you did,” said Mirror. “But we can't spare any more time. We're getting reports in now from all over the city. Grasping Fire's forces hold much of it, but we're pushing them back in many places. You're needed in the planning session.”

Dark Lightning sighed. “Very well.” He turned back to Sky Knife. “But we're not through, priest. Remember that.”

Dark Lightning placed the blade next to Sky Knife's head. “Just to remind you,” said Dark Lightning. “I'll be back.”

Mirror left and Dark Lightning followed. Sky Knife breathed deeply and let his tears flow.

23

By the time the sun had reached its midmorning position in the fourth heaven, Sky Knife's stinging pains had matured into throbbing torment. He tried to ignore it, but the sun doubled his agony, baking his skin and piercing his eyes. Sky Knife kept his eyes closed, but it didn't help much.

Only an occasional small breeze entered the pit to relieve Sky Knife's suffering for a moment with a gentle caress. Then it would be gone and he would be alone with the sun again.

Or, not quite alone. Black flies came to sample his blood. Their feet tickled him where they landed, but their bites stung.

Sky Knife turned his head away from his newest buzzing visitor. But this buzzing was different.

Sky Knife opened his eyes a crack. In front of his face hovered one of the friendly stingless
colecab.
The bee waited a moment as if to be sure Sky Knife saw it, then it flew off.

Hope touched Sky Knife. The
colecab
did not live near Teotihuacan—it was too cold for them. This one must have come a great distance. That it should travel so far and just happen to visit Sky Knife was too much for him to believe. It had been sent as a message. Itzamna had not abandoned him.

Sky Knife began to sing a song of Itzamna. He didn't know what all the words meant—they were in an ancient language not even the priests of Tikal understood anymore. But that didn't matter. It was sufficient that it was a gesture of praise and thanksgiving.

Sky Knife's tongue didn't want to cooperate; it was dry and swollen in his mouth. His lips cracked as he moved them and his voice was no more than a croak. But that didn't matter either. Itzamna would hear him.

Slowly, his tongue loosened and Sky Knife found his voice. He continued the chant to Itzamna. When he finished, he started it again.

“What's he doing?” asked someone. It sounded like Mirror.

“I don't know,” said Dark Lightning. He hopped down into the pit and kicked Sky Knife. Sky Knife grunted but continued his song.

“Pray all you want, priest,” said Dark Lightning. “Or go mad—whichever suits you. When the sun has touched the highest point in the sky, we're going to bring you out of the pit and kill you where my sister can see. We'll show her we're serious.”

Sky Knife paid no attention. Dark Lightning might well be able to kill him. But Sky Knife belonged to Itzamna. He would die at whatever time Itzamna willed. If it was today, then he would die today.

And if not, then nothing Dark Lightning could do would change Itzamna's mind.

Sky Knife finished the chant a second time and launched into a third. Dark Lightning and Mirror left.

Sky Knife sang the chant four times to honor not only Itzamna but the four directions of the sky for which he was named. When he finished, he relaxed. The sun still burned his eyes and the flies crawled over him, but the pain was easier to bear now.

A shadow passed in front of his face. Sky Knife opened his eyes and suppressed a yelp of surprise. A face was right in front of him. A familiar face.

“Shhh,” said Rabbit. “I've come to take you away from here.”