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  Gathelaus said nothing but stared straight ahead. Tezomoc glowered and asked another question. He then cast a scathing glare at Coco.

  “The great Lord Tezomoc doubts your vitality but wishes to know where you are from. Please answer,” said Coco, emphasizing the last.

  “You know where I am from. Tell him yourself.”

  “He is from across the sea, a land of worms known as Vjorn. He will fight for you in the games,” she said.

  “I did not say that,” growled Gathelaus.

  She ignored the remark.

  Tezomoc swept his eyes over Gathelaus yet again, spoke to Culhua and briefly gestured toward Coco.

  Culhua readily agreed to the first point but seemed to take issue with the next. He motioned for Coco and seemed to say disparaging things about her, though not a single word sounded familiar to Gathelaus.

  Tezomoc raised his voice ever so slightly and Culhua relented and lowered his head in submission.

  Culhua barked at his men and they in turn pushed Gathelaus to get him moving to a tent beside the negotiations. There were a dozen other people of all ages bound with their hands behind their backs and wooden collars about their necks.

  Gathelaus had sat most of the time during his imprisonment and did not want to sit now, but the men forced him to the ground. The wooden collar placed upon him made breathing a little more difficult because it was small for his corded neck. The slaves already there looked at his skin, pale in comparison to their own, but beyond that seemed indifferent and resigned to their lot. A moment later Coco sat beside him, she, too, bound with a thick rope about her wrists and wooden collar around her slender neck.

  “What happened?”

  “Culhua wished to sell you as a ball player, because they pay the most as slaves. Tezomoc didn’t believe him or didn’t care. Instead you will be used in the ceremony of Xipe Totec.”

  “What about you? Why are you with me now?” asked Gathelaus.

  “It’s not about you. Tezomoc was intrigued by my ability with tongues, he wants me, as I would be incredibly useful as a translator. There are many peoples under the rule of the Tultecacans and not all of them speak their tongue. I am from the Canatucke Isles and we speak a vastly differing tongue.”

  Gathelaus grimaced, wondering how large these lost lands were and where they would be taking him. Presumably inland. He had to find out more. “Could the chief have not refused?”

  “Culhua did not want to sell me as I was the most valuable slave he’s ever had. But Tezomoc insisted, and he could not refuse even the poor price he offered for both of us,” she lamented.

  “Poor price? I thought I was sold as a valuable ball player and you a priceless interpreter.”

  She shook her head as best she could with the mammoth collar. “Tezomoc is a lord, cousin to the king Itzcoatl. Culhua could not refuse him. Damn the gods, I was almost ready to escape and return to the land of Canatucke. I would be free there. A trader was supposed to be coming back for me in another moon or two.” She put her head down until the collar was between her knees, and she sobbed. “There is no hope now, I will be deep inland, in their damned cities of stone and blood.”

  “There is always a way. Doesn’t this Tezomoc still want me to play his ball game? You saw what I did to the men of the village and I was half-dead,” said Gathelaus with a grin. “My strength will be back soon enough.”

  “You are an arrogant brute and you can fight as well as any man I have ever seen. But it won’t mean a thing in the courts, they may not let you fight at all. It may be a struggle for them to find a priest to fit you,” she said trying to compose herself.

  “Fit me? You admit I can fight and you’re worried about how a priest will dress me? Does this Tezomoc like his prisoners in skirts?” laughed Gathelaus. “Male prisoners?”

  “No, he has other plans for you. You will be the highlight of the Xipe-Totec festival,” she grimaced uncontrollably trying to keep from weeping as she spoke. “I am sorry.”

  Gathelaus laughed. “That’s not so bad is it? People will want to look at such a strange alien in their midst? They will say, ‘look at the wild hairy man who has come amongst us.’”

  “You don’t understand,” she said.

  “I know people. I will be a novelty and somehow I will find a way for both of us to escape. The spectacle will give us ample opportunity to find a way.”

  “No, it won’t. You don’t understand the festival of Xipe-Totec,” she spat the name. “The priests run the festival, they wear the skins, they offer the blood to the gods.”

  “I don’t care what gruesome festivities they do, we can still find a way. I have been in dungeons and slave trains before. A man can always find a way out.” Gathelaus said this with confidence, despite the stifling wooden collar.

  “Not this time,” she said, with a sad shake of her head. “Xipe-Totec is the festival of the Flayed God. Your pale skin will clothe the priest that portrays the flayed god this next killing moon.”

  ***

  Though everything was ready for the, Tezomoc had his entourage wait two more days before setting off on the journey to his home city of Chalco. Coco explained to Gathelaus that it was custom to wait for a lucky day to begin a journey, and the day of One Monkey was a lucky day. The same would hold for their entry into the city—they may have to camp outside the city’s boundaries until it was an auspicious day as well.

  The bindings upon the slaves’ feet were loose but they were still bound by the great collars and also to each other. So if one slave decided to run he would be pulled upon by all the others. Gathelaus considered the idea of gnawing through the rope in front of him, but it seemed the guardsmen of Tezomoc considered the possibility the strange man would do such a thing and he was placed in the center of the slave train so that at his back would be no less than six slaves. Behind them, a large pack of dogs followed, guided by two or three of the older slaves. These dogs were kept for the sake of fresh meat on a daily basis. One was sacrificed nightly—Tezomoc had his choice of the best cuts and the rest went to whomever he deigned to share with. The rest of the people had corn or dried fish. But Gathelaus noticed that the big litter slaves and guardsmen also ate from a gourd full of tiny black and brown seeds.

  “What are those?” he asked Coco.

  “It is the Amaranth and Chia, it grants much energy.”

  “Can you get me some?”

  “No, it is forbidden to all but the warriors. Tezomoc should not even be giving it to his bearers, but he is cousin to the king and none but the high priest would dare correct him,” said Coco.

  “If something happens, will you give me some?”

  “If something happens—but it won’t.”

  Coco did not have to wear the collar or rope any longer but was forced to follow behind Tezomoc’s litter and speak to him if he wished. A dozen shaven-headed slaves carried the lord’s litter, they performed this silent as fish. To her horror, Coco discovered on the journey their tongues had been cut out. She became cautious in what she said to Tezomoc.

  They journeyed for several days and stopped in a minor city for a day only to wait for a more auspicious time to travel. Tezomoc had Coco buy a large blanket to cover Gathelaus. Not because of the cold, but because he did not want his odd-skinned slave to sunburn any more than he already had. The bright red and peeling skin worried the lord, and he feared he had purchased a diseased slave until Coco reminded him of the pale man’s homeland in the frozen north.

  Coco cut the cloth and helped shape a tunic for Gathelaus. It was the only time the wooden collar was removed from him. A guard stood ready with a spear and another had a drawn bow. She took the light blue tunic and put it over his burned shoulders and wrapped his wide leather belt over the top to secure it.

  She was as close as she had ever been and he liked the scent of her, he nuzzled her neck and she drew back surprised, saying something unintelligible. He laughed and she took hold of her jade surreptitiously so that none other should notice. br />
  “You cannot touch me slave,” she snarled. But he laughed. “Why do you laugh?”

  “You have to laugh at something when life seems this grim.”

  Coco shook her head. “If only you knew the horrors that await you, then you would not laugh.”

  “Come a little closer and I’ll laugh again.”

  She smiled but replaced the wooden collar. “All laughter fades as dreams die.” She hurried away and Gathelaus watched her with a man’s appreciation.

  The tunic provided some semblance of warmth at night, though he could never properly rest his head because of the collar. It was the second luxury Tezomoc had afforded the barbarian. Gathelaus had also been given back his thick ox-hide boots. The lord did not want any of Gathelaus’s skin being ruined, even the soles of his feet. Small comfort it gave Gathelaus. The boots and breeches were the last things of his own he still had. Culhua now wore his ragged dragon tunic. An oddity for the simple chieftain who had never seen such a fabric before. The woolen cloak had been examined and poked at by the elderly shaman of the village and then sold to Tezomoc as well.

  A day outside the city of Chalco, they encamped again between a pair of smoking black mountains to wait for a lucky day.

  “Tomorrow is One Serpent, I am sure we will enter Chalco then,” said Coco.

  “Isn’t that just getting closer to my skinning?” Gathelaus chided.

  She looked away. “I want to think of a plan of escape but once in the city there is no way I can see.” She walked away into the deep night.

  He didn’t want her to leave like that. Gathelaus pondered if all he had been through in life was leading up to the butchery at the hands of these men. He had survived years of being a sellsword fighting wars across the face of the world, defeating a dark goddess, claiming his own kingdom, destroying a demonic temple, a marooning, a shipwreck, but most importantly the usurper revolt that slew his bride and stole his hard-earned crown. He couldn’t believe he had made it through all of those near death experiences to die here and now, the skin cut from his flesh to be worn by a bloody-handed priest. He was Gathelaus, slayer of countless named men and monsters, master of the deadly north, survivor of innumerable disasters. Shaking the despair from his mind, he pondered avenues of escape.

  “I got this for you, at least it’s not more corn,” said Coco, handing him a bit of honeycomb covered in amaranth grains. “It will give you strength.”

  “Thank you,” he said, before wolfing down a bite.

  “Why did you come to this land?” she asked. Her large eyes ready to take in his tale.

  “I sailed across the sea against my will. I was king in my own land, but it was stolen from me by one named Vikarskeid.”

  “Vike-Ar-Skide?” she questioned.

  “Aye. I should have slain him. But I let mercy rob justice and decided not to slay all the nobility of Vjorn. Perhaps I should have. I was captured by his men and some wanted me to suffer rather than simply be slain. So I was sold into slavery that I might never touch land again. But as you can see, I am a survivor. I will return and crush my enemies.”

  She was silent a long moment, then said, “There comes a time when you can’t fight your way out anymore and all your plans are as dust.”

  “You speak as if there is no hope. There is always a way,” said Gathelaus. He grinned at her and tried to caress her cheek.

  She pulled away and stood with a single tear running down her cheek.

  “It’s not the end,” he said.

  “I like you, Gathelaus. I will miss you,” she said.

  Other travelers who did not move as slowly as the slave train, hurried to be down the mountain before dusk.

  “Why are they in such a hurry?” Gathelaus asked.

  “They think the smoky mountains are haunted and the abode of malevolent gods.”

  “Are they?” he asked with a grin.

  “I don’t know, but it is what folk say. I should not doubt it.”

  A dozen men garbed in cloaks stained in blood came from the city. They stopped and spoke to Tezomoc. After a heated conversation the twelve men continued on their way.

  “What was that about?”

  Coco watched nervously as the men strode back down the mountain road in the opposite direction. “They are priests, acolytes of the Nagual shaman, Cuauhtémoc.”

  “And who is that?”

  “He is the sorcerer king of black magic. He serves king Itzcoatl, but rumors say it is he who truly rules the land.”

  “What did they want?”

  She looked about to be sure no one could hear her. “They reminded Tezomoc to pay tribute to the gods of the mountain or that something evil might happen to his property.”

  “It didn’t look like he agreed.”

  “He didn’t. He told them to go fornicate with tapirs.”

  “What is a tapir?”

  Coco shook her head. “You don’t understand. They weren’t really asking, they were demanding. And if Tezomoc doesn’t pay what they want, we could all suffer.”

  Gathelaus apparently didn’t look like he understood the gravity of the situation, so she emphasized. “Tezomoc is vain, he thinks his royal blood puts him above the law. But he is playing with fire.”

  A man near to Tezomoc’s palanquin barked at Coco. She gave a half-smile to Gathelaus and hurried to heed her new master’s call.

  As night came on, the wind flailed and it grew chilly between the snow-capped mountains. Smoke rose in long spindly columns from the tops of the volcanic mounts, but Coco had told him earlier that they had not erupted in centuries.

  Stars winked into existence until the full wheel-like image of the cosmic serpent reeled overhead. A few of Tezomoc’s retainers pled with him and he haughtily shot them down until finally he had his men prepare a small repast of food and put it at the far end of their camp upon the stone idol of a reclining man who held a warped tray upon his chest.

  Gathelaus couldn’t understand the words but the meaning of the muttering slaves beside him was simple enough to understand. Tezomoc had given an offering, but it was regarded that he had left a miserly appeasement and that trouble might soon follow for his stinginess.

  Not knowing nor caring much for the customs of the land, Gathelaus paid it no more heed and went to sleep.

  Gods of the Mountain

  Gathelaus awoke to bloodcurdling screams and awful cries of fear. The fires of the camp had been extinguished. The black ground merged in unholy union with the night, making it almost impossible to tell where earth ended, and sky began. The slave chain jostled back and forth as the folk cowered each way, pulling him in a tug of war.

  Defiant and confused snarls came from Tezomoc’s guardsmen, followed by the deep guttural roar of beasts with such depth that its resonant bellow rattled his bones to the core. The low-pitched sound induced a primal fear, difficult to shake. The folk beside him smelled like they had soiled themselves.

  Shapes of large men darted in the gloom like black lightning. They took up a few choice people and just as suddenly vanished among the crags.

  A guardsman shouted and loosed an arrow. A guttural wince confirmed an arrow had found its mark. A towering form stood near and yanked a slave from beside him, rending the rope that bound the slaves together as if it were twine. A warm splash hit Gathelaus in the face, and by the salty flavor he knew it was blood.

  The terrible mysterious giant had just rent a man in twain.

  A pair of slaves to his left tugged on the rope still caught between the yoke upon Gathelaus’s neck. It pulled loose, partially freeing him.

  A woman screamed somewhere out in the cold distance and he was sure that it was Coco. Slamming his yoke against a nearby boulder, he shattered the wood until he was free.

  “Coco! Coco!”

  “Gathelaus!” came her distant answer, from somewhere up the slope well beyond the ribbon of road.

  Gathelaus reeled at the answer. These gods of the mountains had suddenly attacked and taken the gir
l and already raced far up the mountainside. What could do such a thing?

  He had no weapon at hand but raced up and after her. He wondered at how any man could have carried Coco up the steep mountainside, as he had a hard time himself in the dark finding purchase on the treacherous and jagged basalt. Once he struggled past the initial steep incline, he found a ledge ten yards up and a trail that slithered up the mountain.

  These night raiders must have planned an auspicious attack and escaped in their secret ways before Tezomoc’s men could mount a counterattack.

  Still having no weapon, he constantly scanned the dark ground for any sign of his opponents, whether a trap or blood trail. The muffled sound of Coco’s struggle seemed already a good deal farther on than he would have supposed. The mountain goat like surety of these raiders must be keen.

  The roaring wind blew in Gathelaus’s face. Good. It would help conceal his approach. Between the wind, darkness, and fear they had wrought, his enemies should not expect that he trailed them.

  The trail wound around the mountain, leading between the two volcanoes and to the far side more than a league above the road and camp of Tezomoc below. Despite the gloom, Gathelaus mused how men hiding upon these crags might have watched the caravans completely unseen.

  Once far head, Gathelaus thought he saw the tease of the orange glow of a lantern, but it disappeared just as swiftly as he saw it.

  The trail split into three forks and, though he tried to read the sign of passage, in the dark it appeared possible that feet had trod all three recently. Suspecting a trap, he warily kept to the top most track.

  The false dawn gave an eerie cast to the sky. Gathelaus listened intently but heard no more sign of the raiders, nor of Coco. He continued on the path until it became a dead end at a shallow cliff face. He scanned all around the edge but could find no continuing trail or path. He saw no hand holds where someone might have scaled the face and it was far too sheer for him to believe anyone ascended it without a rope. Above, a wide finger of the mountain shot out, eliminating the possibility that there was anywhere to go above.