Sky Knife (31 page)

“No!” screamed Bone Splinter. “We will stop you.”

“Too late,” said Stone Jaguar. His voice faded away.

Bone Splinter ran to Sky Knife and grabbed his shoulders, propping the younger man up into a sitting position. “Sky Knife, we must do something—now!”

Sky Knife raised his eyes to the warrior's. “We could get to the king.…”

“There's no steps—and no time,” said Bone Splinter. “There is only one way for you to get the strength you need to defeat him.”

Suddenly, Sky Knife knew what Bone Splinter was going to say. He prayed he was wrong. But he knew he wasn't.

34

“You have to do it,” said Bone Splinter. “If Stone Jaguar can take unwilling peasants and use their energy for his own use, you could take a willing sacrifice and use the energy to beat him.”

Sky Knife shook his head. “I've … I've never … I can't!” he screamed. “I can't.”

It would work. Sky Knife damned the simplicity of it. A volunteer—a true volunteer—was more powerful as a sacrifice than someone who came unwilling. No doubt Stone Jaguar had had to use hundreds of peasants because of that. But Sky Knife had always been taught that the perfect sacrifice would be powerful enough to move the earth, powerful enough to breach the walls of the underworlds and bring the heavens crashing down into the seas. Powerful enough, certainly, to best Stone Jaguar.

But it meant Bone Splinter's death at Sky Knife's hands. He couldn't do it. Storm Cloud was his king, but he'd only met the man twice. Bone Splinter was his friend. Sky Knife didn't have enough friends to lose one.

Bone Splinter grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed. Sky Knife winced in pain and met Bone Splinter's eyes. The warrior's face reflected fear, but it wasn't fear for himself.

“We must do something, and this is the only way,” said Bone Splinter. He frowned and shook Sky Knife. “Do it—or I will curse you with every evil I can name.”

“I … I don't know how,” said Sky Knife.

Bone Splinter released him. “There is nothing to know. You are a priest, you bear the Hand of God. You will do it.”

Sky Knife glanced around the cavern helplessly, anywhere but Bone Splinter's eyes. “But there are no attendants, no other priests.…”

“It only takes one priest for a sacrifice,” said Bone Splinter. “And as for attendants, well, you won't need anyone to hold me down.”

Sky Knife shivered at the coldness in Bone Splinter's voice. It was the same tone with which he'd threatened Stone Jaguar in the southern acropolis after Yellow Chin's attack. There was no doubt in the warrior's voice, no fear. Only the sure knowledge that he would do his duty.

Sky Knife met Bone Splinter's eyes reluctantly. He felt as if a great hand squeezed his chest and he had to bite back sobs.

Bone Splinter nodded. “There is no other way,” he said. “Come, do it quickly, before Stone Jaguar harms the king.” The warrior grasped Sky Knife's shoulder and smiled. “I will miss you,” he said. “But we will meet again in the seventh heaven. Believe it.”

Sky Knife looked away and gestured toward the still pool of water. He couldn't bear to think about saying goodbye. “Bathe yourself,” he said. “This is
zuhuy ha,
the pure water at the Navel of the World.”

Bone Splinter dropped his arm and lowered his forehead to the floor at Sky Knife's knees. “As you will, Lord,” he said.

Sky Knife struggled to his feet while Bone Splinter removed his sandals, skirt, and loincloth and stepped into the pool.

Where should he do this? Sky Knife still couldn't believe he was contemplating sacrificing Bone Splinter. He glanced around. Behind him, next to where the pool met the western wall of the cavern, was a boulder whose top surface was flat. Sky Knife went to it and bent over to examine it more closely. He leaned his weight on it as he did so, glad of the support.

The surface looked as though it had been ground down. No doubt it had been used as an altar before, but there was no way to know to which gods it had been sanctified. Sky Knife got out the cigars and placed them on the boulder. Then he removed the obsidian blade from its pouch and placed it next to the cigars.

“Itzamna,” he whispered. “Bless this altar and accept the sacrifice I am about to give you.” Sky Knife nearly choked on his prayer and the pressure in his chest grew. No wonder his mother had been told to give him a bad luck name—what worse luck could a man have than to sacrifice a friend?

Sky Knife picked up the blade and scratched his wrist. A thin trickle of blood ran down his wrist and dripped onto the stone. Sky Knife waved the blade over the blood. “With blood I change this from stone to altar, from earthly to divine purpose. Take my blood and hold it in trust, that I may always be true to you, Lord of All.”

Smoke rose from the blood, deep blue in color. It glowed slightly, then dissipated. The cigars burst into flames and burned brightly blue for a moment. The flames died, leaving a small pile of glowing ash.

The gods approved. Sky Knife trembled and couldn't keep the tears from flowing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Where is the sacrifice?” he asked as firmly as he could. Before the actual sacrifice, it was imperative to find a volunteer. Bone Splinter had already said he was willing, but Sky Knife wanted to conform to all the rituals he remembered. This had to go just right. Everything had to be perfect.

“I am here,” said Bone Splinter. “I come freely to be the sacrifice for my god, my king, and my city.”

“Then come forward.” Sky Knife turned and held the Hand of God out in front of him.

Bone Splinter stepped into the circle of the tattoo's glow. He was naked—even his ear spools were gone. Water dripped off his skin and his wet hair fell over his ears and into his face. The warrior knelt in front of Sky Knife.

Sky Knife passed the Hand of God over Bone Splinter's head four times. “The time of sacrifice is set.”

“When is the time?” asked Bone Splinter as ritual demanded.

“The time … the time is now,” whispered Sky Knife, his voice deserting him. He fought the tears, but they ran down his face again.

Bone Splinter looked up and grabbed Sky Knife's wrist and that was definitely
not
part of the ritual. Sky Knife gasped in surprise and glanced into Bone Splinter's calm eyes.

“Be easy, my friend,” said Bone Splinter. “I am the sacrifice come freely.”

Sky Knife bit his lip and nodded. “Then stand.”

Bone Splinter obeyed. Sky Knife stepped aside and Bone Splinter walked to the altar and laid himself upon it.

Sky Knife knelt before the altar. “Red Jaguar of the East, hear my prayer. Black Jaguar of the West, hear my prayer. White Jaguar of the North, hear my prayer. Yellow Jaguar of the South, hear my prayer.”

A slight breeze caressed his face carrying the sweet smell of flowers. Sky Knife frowned. The temple glow odor had never smelled of flowers before. Perhaps it was a good sign. Sky Knife prayed it was.

“Lord of All, I beg you for help,” prayed Sky Knife. “I must have the strength to defeat Stone Jaguar. Please, give me the power I need to protect Storm Cloud and Tikal. Stone Jaguar must die and the
nagual
must be returned to the Totilme'iletik. All bad luck must be driven away so that Tikal will prosper in the new
katun.
Be my guide and my strength, Itzamna Kauil, friend of man and provider in times of need.”

Sky Knife stood on shaky legs. Bone Splinter lay quiet and calm on the altar, eyes closed. He breathed evenly and slowly.

Sky Knife bit his lip. This was it. There were no more prayers to make, no more incantations, no more invocations—just the
p'a chi
itself. The time of sacrifice. Sky Knife held the Hand of God above Bone Splinter. It glowed, dimly at first, but then more and more brightly until it lit the entire cavern.

Sky Knife trembled. He couldn't do it. He lowered the knife a few inches. Bone Splinter opened his eyes.

“Do not fail me, Sky Knife,” he said. “You must do this.” Bone Splinter reached out and grabbed Sky Knife's wrist, stopped its descent. Sky Knife met the other man's eyes. This was the time when every sacrifice showed fear—when the knife was held above their hearts. If even a glint of fear showed in Bone Splinter's face, Sky Knife knew he wouldn't be able to go any further.

But there was none. Bone Splinter's face was calm, even under the knife. He released Sky Knife's wrist and settled himself back down on the altar. Awe colored Sky Knife's thoughts and soothed his heart. Bone Splinter was
not
afraid. He was a true sacrifice. Perfect.

Sky Knife raised the knife again, said a silent prayer to Itzamna for courage, and brought the blade down into Bone Splinter's stomach. The warrior's flesh parted easily before the glowing blade.

The warrior grunted but did not scream. His bright, bright blood splattered over him, over Sky Knife, over the cavern wall. It flowed down his sides and down the altar. It ran onto Sky Knife's feet, warm and slick.

Sky Knife withdrew the knife and shoved it into his left hand. With his right, he put his fingers into the gash in Bone Splinter's gut.

Bone Splinter's body was warm, his blood slippery. Sky Knife pushed his hand completely in, not sure exactly where in the chest he would find Bone Splinter's heart. His hand encountered a smooth, muscular barrier. Sky Knife gritted his teeth and shoved his hand through.

Bone Splinter grunted again, but still he did not scream. Sky Knife glanced at the warrior's face. It was contorted in pain, but it remained without fear.

Past the barrier, Sky Knife felt the warrior's strong heartbeat near his hand. He reached in farther and grabbed the slippery, pulsing organ, wondering how strongly it was rooted in the chest.

Sky Knife's hand was not large enough to encircle the heart, but it didn't seem to matter. The heart stuck to his hand as if bound to it. Sky Knife drew the heart toward him.

Bone Splinter screamed “Itzamna!” as the heart came loose from his chest. Sky Knife yanked the heart the rest of the way out and the other man went limp on the altar. His face went slack, losing all trace of his suffering.

Sky Knife held the beating heart in front of him over Bone Splinter's body. It glowed and dazzling flakes of light rained down from the ceiling. Others leapt from the floor and walls. They swirled around Sky Knife, tickling and teasing, before converging on the heart and pouring into it.

The heart swelled with the light and burst into a million small blue sparkling motes. Some of the blue sparkles fell onto Sky Knife, bathing him with warmth and a deep, soul-satisfying comfort. And with love, too. Sky Knife laughed with joy.

More of the sparkles fell on him. Sky Knife closed his eyes at the strength that flowed into him. Power flowed through his muscles, his veins, into his heart and mind.

In his mind, he saw himself flowing upwards, through the stone of the cave, to float in the air above the northern acropolis. He looked down at himself. To his own eyes, he looked solid. He reached down to touch his leg and his hand passed through it as though he were a cloud, or a streak of mist. Sky Knife knew he should be afraid, but he felt only the joy that Bone Splinter had bequeathed him.

Sky Knife glanced around for Stone Jaguar. The night was almost gone. The first gray streaks of pre-dawn light lay littered on the eastern horizon. Below, in the plaza, the love-gift vendor had just settled into her coveted spot.

Something else was to the east besides false dawn. A black cloud in jaguar shape hovered over the palace. In its forepaw it clutched something small and human-shaped.

Storm Cloud.

35

“Stop!” shouted Sky Knife.

The black jaguar whirled. It hissed at Sky Knife. “You think to stop me? You are nothing.”

The words hit Sky Knife and his gut quivered in fear. But Bone Splinter's love held him up. Sky Knife wrapped it around him like a cloak. “No,” he said. “I have the strength of a perfect sacrifice. There is no power on earth or in any of the heavens or in any of the underworlds as great as that.”

The cloud jaguar shrugged, dismissing him. “No power can equal me. I am
Ah nacom
of Tikal—I alone have the right to perform the
p'a chi
and wear the cloak you have stolen.” The jaguar bared its fangs to Sky Knife.

“Leave the king alone,” commanded Sky Knife. “I will not let you harm him.”

“You can't do anything about the king now,” said Stone Jaguar. The struggling figure in the jaguar's grip disappeared. Sky Knife leaped forward, thinking Stone Jaguar had dropped the king, but no sign of Storm Cloud remained.

“Where is he?” demanded Sky Knife. “Where is the king?”

The jaguar cloud shimmered slightly, the blackness bleeding out of it. In the span of only a few heartbeats, it had become merely a low-lying cloud, white and fluffy. It faded in the early morning air.

“Stone Jaguar!”

Monkeys began their ear-splitting daily ritual to greet the dawn. Their screeching set off the birds of the jungle. The noise normally meant stability and normality to Sky Knife, but today, the sounds seemed desperate, panicked.

Sky Knife floated to the palace. Courtiers, hair loose around their shoulders, skirts askew, ran around shouting. Sky Knife rose higher above the city. Around Tikal, the jungle stretched green and thick, broken only by the small cleared areas of the farmers'
milpas.
The city itself, its temples and plazas, the palace and the House of the Warriors, seemed tiny and insignificant. Sky Knife felt ashamed. He had always thought of the buildings of his city as impressive. But next to the jungle, they were nothing. Sky Knife wondered why the gods would ever smile upon a city that was so small when viewed from the skies.

The sky was cloudless. “Stone Jaguar!” shouted Sky Knife. “Where is the king?”