The Monster of Sacrifices
AS if in a trance, I heard him stammer out the terrible news. She had
been alone in the palace with the princesses, Tutuil and Mitchi Ina.
She had left them to go into the patio to gather flowers. A moment
later they had heard a piercing scream, and, rushing to the patio
followed by the attendants, they had found it empty. Terrified, they
had searched the palace from end to end, but no trace of my beloved one
could be found. The guards, ever posted at the doorways, had not seen
her pass. Several servants had seen her enter the patio, but no one
had seen her leave it. She had vanished, disappeared as completely, as
mysteriously, as though she had dissolved in air. A terrified servant
had found the prince, he had rushed to the palace, had learned of the
terrible catastrophe, and had dashed to Nohul Voh’s to tell me.
The sorcerer’s voice brought me to my senses. “My son,” he said,
placing his hand upon my shoulder, “the serpent has struck, but his
head shall be crushed beneath your heel. Upon your breast is the symbol
of the Tutul Zius; bear your blow like a son of that clan, for it is
written in the book of fate that you shall triumph in the end. And
let not your brain be clouded nor your actions stayed by fear for the
maiden Itza. No harm will befall her before the day of Tonalmatl. Seek
her O, Itzimin Chac, even though the way leads unto the inner precincts
of the Temple of the Sun, for in the City of Mictolan, even the portals
of Kinich Ahau cannot bar the way to the betrayed bearer of the Book of
Kukulcan. But beware, my son, that you crush not the serpent ere you
have bared the secrets of his den. And seek not rashly and alone, for
the venom of the serpent is deadly and he strikes most surely in the
dark. Now go you with the favor of the gods and the prayers of Nohul
Voh, for the clan of Ipa Hanac draws near to its end.”
The words of the old sorcerer reassured me. He declared Itza was in
no danger until the day of Tonalmatl. In that case I had thirty-six
hours in which to find and rescue her, time enough to search every
nook and corner in the whole of Mictolan, even the inner temple, Nohul
Voh suggested. Telling Azcopil to join me with his own retainers, and
to spread the news of Itza’s disappearance and to promise immense
rewards for news of her, I dashed to the palace. Everyone was excited,
confused, terrified, and they chattered, moaned, lamented, besought
mercy and pleaded for forgiveness at the same time. Impatient, maddened
at the loss of time, I managed to quiet them at last, to make them
understand there was no blame attached to anyone, and to get some
order out of chaos and some sort of a connected and intelligible
account of what had happened. But there were no details, nothing added
to what the prince had told me. Itza had vanished. She certainly had
not left the palace by either of the two doors. But how, by what
mysterious means could she have disappeared from the open flower-filled
patio within a few yards of scores of attendants? Unless there was a
secret exit, a hidden doorway, it seemed supernatural. And I could
find no trace of such an opening. The flowers, shrubs and trees were
undisturbed. The smooth paths revealed no sign of a trapdoor, and the
ornate sculptured fountain in the centre splashed and tinkled as usual.
But the question of how Itza had gone was of far less importance than
where she was. Regardless of the manner in which she had vanished, or
by whose hands, she must be somewhere within the city, and I would find
her, rescue her, if I had to raze every building to do so.
Summoning my bodyguard of picked warriors, who heretofore had been
wholly ornamental, I joined Azcopil, who arrived with a crowd of
his friends and retainers. Already the news of my loss had spread
like wildfire through the city. Crowds thronged and milled about
some shouting vengeance on those who were responsible; others awed,
terrified, declaring Itza had been carried off by some spirit or devil;
others declaring the Sun God had taken her for his bride; others
consoling me, still others volunteering their services. Somehow the
rumor had spread that Kinchi Haman was at the bottom of the trouble,
and among the curses, prayers, shouts and disputes, I heard many of the
throng crying for the blood of the priest, demanding that he be seized
and tortured. Quarrels arose, the people split into factions--one for
Kinchi Haman, the other for me--and in a moment the streets became a
riot, a pandemonium. But we paid no heed to the excited, struggling,
arguing mob. Let them settle it as they might, let them break one
anothers’ heads, if they wanted to. Itza must be found, and at the head
of our men, Azcopil and I hurried towards the Temple of Kinich Ahau.
Into the great court we poured, thrusting aside the temple guards,
disarming them, binding them.
Ordering a party of our men to search every outbuilding, to prevent
anyone from entering or leaving the place, we dashed up the short
flight of steps to the great sculptured doorway. A stalwart guard
barred our way only to fall, gasping, from a savage blow of Azcopil’s
war club. A frightened dishevelled priest sprang forward and with
upraised arms forbade us to enter. “Back!” he shouted, “Back, defilers
of the Temple of the Lord of Day! What seek you here with noise and
violence?”
I laughed hoarsely, wildly. “I seek the misshapen, evil thing you call
your priest!” I cried. “The Kinchi Haman, Poisoner of the Year. Aside,
man, or your spirit joins that of your guard yonder! This day Kinich
Ahau bows to the will of Kukulcan.”
“Kinchi Haman is not within,” stammered the terrified priest. “Not
since the ceremony of the Rising Sun has he been within the temple.
Turn back, O, Itzimin Chac, and bring not the vengeance of the All
Powerful upon you and yours!”
“That for your god and his vengeance!” I cried, snapping my fingers in
his face. “You lie! Kinchi Haman _is_ within.”
With a quick motion I seized him by the long hair, swung him to one
side, and followed by the prince and a scant half dozen of my men,
burst into the temple. Cries, shouts, curses came from the throng of
priests, servants, acolytes and attendants as, glancing to right and
left, into passages and rooms, we hurried on. Which way should we turn?
Where should we seek? The place was a labyrinth of passages, of narrow
halls, of cell-like rooms, a veritable warren, a miniature city within
the vast pyramidal Kus. A cry from Azcopil caused me to wheel. We were
alone. Our men, filled with superstitious fears at entering the sacred
temple, had deserted us.
But neither the prince nor I thought for an instant of turning back.
Somewhere within the temple was the high priest; never once did we
doubt that he knew of Itza’s whereabouts, and our only thoughts were
to find him, threaten him, wring the truth from his grinning, hideous
mouth. On every side were enemies, fanatical, outraged priests and
temple servitors, buzzing like angry bees but, unarmed as they were,
fearing to throw themselves upon us, contenting themselves with threats
of their gods’ vengeance, by calling down curses and maledictions upon
us. We paid little heed to them. I felt sure that we would not find
either Itza or the high priest in this part of the vast structure. He
would be hiding--like the cowardly, lurking reptile he was, in some
secret, innermost lair. But where? We were wasting time seeking blindly
for a way to reach him. We might wander for hours aimlessly and be no
nearer to our quarry. Roughly I seized a scowling, threatening priest
and shook him until his teeth chattered. Then, holding my dreaded
pistol at his head, I ordered him to lead us to the quarters of the
high-priest. Hardly able to speak for terror, with shaking knees, he
babbled that he could not, that the punishment of the gods would fall
upon him if he did so.
“The curses of Kukulcan will fall upon you and all within the temple,
if you do not!” I hissed at him. “And the thunder of Itzimin Chac will
kill you where you stand!”
* * * * *
PITIFULLY he begged for mercy, implored me to spare him. But before I
could reply, before I could repeat a threat, Azcopil’s spear flashed by
my eyes and buried itself in the fellow’s throat. Leaping forward, the
prince seized a fat elderly priest, whose robes showed him to be of an
exalted order.
Prodding him with his sword, threatening him with the most horrible
tortures, Azcopil urged him forward. But little urging was required.
The sight of my weapon, and of the dead priest upon the stone flagging,
had been too much for the old fellow. The vengeance of the gods might
eventually fall upon us, but it would be of little satisfaction to him
if he was stark and stiff when the gods saw fit to act. And the gods
seemed very slow. Babbling incoherently, vowing Kinchi Haman was not
in the temple, he led the way at the point of the prince’s spear. Up
a flight of steps, through a narrow passage, between rows of giant,
magnificently-sculptured idols he stumbled, with us at his heels. Even
in my distress, obsessed with one idea of rescuing my beloved Itza, I
noticed half-consciously that the temple was immeasurably ancient, that
it was unlike anything hitherto known in America, and that the outer
Mayan portion must have been erected over the original prehistoric
structure.
Dimly, as though it were a fragment of some dream, I remembered Nohul
Voh’s words; “When our fathers’ fathers’ fathers came to Mictolan a
temple stood here--and the monster dwelt within.” The old sorcerer
had told the truth about the ancient temple. Was there really a
monster here? Would I find the thing? Then a terrible, a sickening
thought flashed through my mind. They spoke of it as the “Monster of
Sacrifices”; Itza had said the high priest fed the fiendish thing with
maidens. What if Kinchi Haman had seized her--my Itza, to fill the maw
of some horrible, loathsome creature! But Nohul Voh had assured me she
would be safe until the day of Tonalmatl. Could I trust in him? How did
he know?
Then suddenly, like a ray of light, it came to me. The day of
Tonalmatl, the day of the spring florescence, the day of the sacrifice
of girls married symbolically by death to the Sun God! Itza herself
had been a chosen one! I saw it all now. The villainous, bloodthirsty
priest had abducted her, stolen her to sacrifice her to his pagan
god by hurling her into the sacred well! In that way he could avenge
himself upon me and would appease his god at the same time. Nohul Voh
must have suspected, must have guessed. That was why he had felt sure
Itza would be unharmed until the day of Tonalmatl! My face blanched at
the thought of Itza meeting such a fate. I groaned aloud. But there was
some consolation in the thought. The fanatical priest would not harm
a hair of her head, would not dare anger his god by defiling her with
his touch, until the appointed time. And I still had nearly thirty-six
hours.
* * * * *
AS these thoughts raced through my mind, we were still hurrying onward.
How many steps we ascended, how many we descended, how many doors we
entered, I shall never know. But at last, falling upon his knees,
grovelling at our feet, he pointed to a closed door ahead, and in a
paroxysm of terror whispered that the quarters of Kinchi Haman were
beyond the portal.
Brushing him aside, we sprang forward. We hurled ourselves upon the
door. It swung wide, and with ready weapons, we dashed into the
room. It was empty! We stared about. Everywhere were signs of recent
occupancy. There were discarded garments we recognized as belonging to
the priest. In one corner was his couch, tumbled and tossed as when
last used. Furnishings, clothing, papyrus books were scattered about.
Everything told of a hurried exit. The priest had fled at our approach.
But where, by what means? Not another door, not a window was visible!
I could see by the prince’s expression that he was nervous, that he
was filled with superstitious fears. Itza had vanished mysteriously,
almost supernaturally. And here, in this room within the very heart of
the temple, the high priest had also vanished. It would never do to let
Azcopil become terrified. I counted upon him, must have him to fall
back upon.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Far above our heads, two hundred feet and more above
where we stood, showed a square of blue sky half hidden by wavering,
swaying, lambent flames--]
* * * * *
I laughed, made the place ring with my merriment. “The snake has gone!”
I cried, “The door was open! Fools we have been! But we will find him
yet.”
The expression of nameless fear left Azcopil’s face. His superstitions
were stilled. But I felt somehow that Kinchi Haman had not fled by way
of the door by which we had entered. Somewhere within the room there
must be a secret door, a hidden opening. Madly I pulled the rugs,
the hangings, the furnishings about. Suddenly I stopped, motionless,
listening. From somewhere, seemingly beneath my feet, came a strange,
rumbling growling roar. The prince heard it also. Terror filled his
eyes, his mouth gaped. I felt my own scalp tingle, cold chills ran up
and down my spine. Was it--? Yes, it could be nothing else; it must be
the Monster of Sacrifices!
Somewhere close at hand, the Thing--whatever it was--was roaring,
howling like a lost soul. What was it, where was it? I glanced
fearfully about, half expecting to see some fantastic, horrible,
ghastly, nightmarish creature spring from some secret hidden door.
Then common sense came to my rescue. Whatever it was, wherever it
might be, it was not probable that it was within reach of the priest’s
sanctum. He was no man to take chances. No doubt it was securely
caged. If it devoured human beings, it was not the sort of beast to
be kept as a pet. Reassuring the prince, calming his fears by such
arguments, we again fell to searching the chamber while, in the back
of my mind, was a determination to destroy the ghastly monster as soon
as I had finished with Kinchi Haman. In fact I had a half-formed idea
of throwing the priest to the monster and, so maddened was I at the
priest’s escape and at the loss of Itza, that, had I been able to lay
hands upon him, I would have gloated upon seeing him torn to shreds and
devoured by the Thing.
A shout from Azcopil brought me to his side at a bound. He had pushed
aside a huge golden idol, and as he had done so, a dark opening in the
wall was revealed. Without hesitation we entered. From somewhere far
overhead a glimmer of light entered. By the faint illumination we saw a
flight of steep, narrow stairs leading downwards in a spiral.
Down, down, down we went. I felt as if we were descending to the
very bowels of the earth. And each moment, as we descended, the
horrible banshee-like wailing, the howling of the Monster, increased.
The earth seemed actually to tremble at its roar. What terrible,
unimaginable thing _could_ it be? I could think of nothing but some
stupendous, gigantic, prehistoric creature. And was Itza here, near
this Thing, crazed with terror of its infernal din? I ground my teeth
in inexpressible rage at Kinchi Haman at the thought. I imagined him
gloating over her screams and shrieks, driving her mad by pretending to
feed her to the ravenous beast. Let me at him! Let me get my grip upon
his twisted body and I would show _him_ what terror was!
And then suddenly we came into bright light and halted in our tracks,
staring dumbfounded at what we saw. We were in a vast circular chamber
of polished black rock. From far above light streamed down. Before us
in the centre of the floor was a round hole or shaft, its rim raised a
few feet and glistening with red, yellow and green crystals.
Up from the centre of this crater-like hole rose a column of thin
yellowish vapor, while from the unseen depths came that awful, roaring,
demoniacal howl! I glanced up. I gaped--stared in wonder. Far above
our heads--two hundred feet and more above where we stood, showed a
square of blue sky half hidden by wavering, swaying lambent flames!
Sudden knowledge, sudden understanding came to me. From the bowels of
the earth beneath the temple this geyser of inflammable gas rose to the
temple top, and, ignited by the sacred fires ceaselessly burning there,
spread its flaming banners against the sky. If Nohul Voh was right,
then the Bridge of Light now spanned the chasm.
But of what use to me? Itza, my Itza was gone! By the irony of fate the
way to escape had come when I could not use it.
Filled with bitterness, torn with my heart-breaking misery, I
half-consciously stepped forward and, leaning over, glanced into the
pit. A horrified cry escaped from my lips. Below me, perhaps twenty
feet from where I stood, a broad shelf encircled the shaft. And upon
it, twisted, contorted, ghastly, were dozens of human skeletons and
human bodies! And still farther down, belching, roaring, howling from
a great arched opening in one side of the pit and disappearing in a
similar opening on the other side, was a column of luminous liquid
or vapor like the jet of water from a stupendous, titanic flame.
Fascinated, I gazed. With dread of what I _might_ see, I peered at
those grisly ghastly bodies, until convinced that all had been there
for days--weeks. Then, and not till then did full comprehension come
to me. _This_ was the Monster of Sacrifices! This shrieking, howling
torrent of gas or vapor or whatever it was, was the _Thing_ I had
pictured as some loathsome, horrible beast! Those mouldering bodies and
whitening bones were the victims of sacrifices to the phenomenon! I
laughed madly, hysterically as the tension on my nerves was released.
To the prince, who feared I had gone mad, I explained. Incredulously
he listened to my words and then, as he, too, understood, his maniacal
laughter mingled with my own.
* * * * *
SUDDENLY I sprang to my feet with a triumphant shout. Now everything
was clear. The Bridge of Light! The roaring horizontal column of
vapor below us! They were one and the same! Through some subterranean
passageway, the hissing, bellowing gas traveled to the chasm, the rocks
there were filled with the radium ore; the gas was ionized, and as
it spouted across the abyss, the molecules, the atoms that had been
liquid became electrified ions, cations, solids--countless billions of
infinitesimal bits of metal or mineral, moving, to be sure, streaming
across the chasm, but under such pressure, so closely packed, that
they formed a span as strong and unyielding as solid metal! It seemed
incredible, but it was fact, I felt sure. Even a column of water, under
pressure, will support a great weight, seems to become almost solid,
and this great stream of electrified ions was ten thousand, a million
times more solid than water.
And how natural, how easily explained everything was after all. No
wonder the flames flared from the temple top when the Bridge of Light
appeared. These two were one and the same thing in different forms.
When the vast stream of gas rushed across the pit before us, its
escaping vapors rose up and flamed at the temple summit. Kinchi Haman
had nothing to do with it. There was nothing mysterious, nothing secret
about it. It was merely a natural force, a phenomenon of nature.
At any other time I would have been elated, overjoyed at my discovery,
at my solution of the seeming mysteries. At any other time I would have
rushed to the chasm, and with Itza by my side, would have sped across
the Bridge of Light and would have left Mictolan forever.
But now, now what did it matter? Nothing mattered as long as I had
lost Itza. I must find her, _would_ find her! But one great worry, one
immense load was off my mind. I felt sure she had not been sacrificed
to Kinchi Haman’s Monster of the temple.
Equally, I felt sure, she had not passed this way. She must have
been secreted in some other portion of the temple. We must hurry
back, must retrace our steps to the priest’s quarters, must search
elsewhere. Already we had lost valuable hours. Sunset and darkness were
approaching; we must hurry. Back up the winding, interminable stairs
we ran, panting, muscles tired and aching. We neared the top; ahead
we could see the opening to Kinchi Haman’s room, when, in the deep
shadows, my eye caught the glint of light flashing from some object
beside the stairway. My groping hands found it. A glad shout came from
my lips, as peering close I examined it. It was a link of gold chain!
I would have known it anywhere. There could be no mistake. It was a
fragment of a chain I had given Itza! And it was caught, jammed in a
crevice, in the crack of a cleverly hidden door!
Feverishly we searched for a fastening, a handle, for the door was of
stone and fitted perfectly into the surrounding masonry.
We were on the right track. Itza had been brought this way. Her chain,
dislodged by her struggles or trailing had been caught in the door as
it was closed, and somewhere behind that secret doorway, we would find
her.
Suddenly the prince uttered an exclamation. “Wait;” he cried, as he
dashed up the few remaining steps. The next instant he was at the
doorway to the priest’s room. I saw him reach within, saw him draw the
golden idol towards him, and as he did so the solid masonry swung back
before me!
Cautiously, feeling our way, with weapons in readiness for instant use,
we crept along the dark and narrow passageway. For what seemed miles,
we followed it. No doors opened from it; it was a damp, low-roofed
noisome tunnel, and I shuddered as I thought of Itza in such a place.
Then to our ears came the sound of falling water. The floor was wet and
slippery. Narrow, uncertain streaks of light showed in the masonry, and
we came to a halt at the end of the passageway. Above us water gurgled
and splashed. We examined the walls, searched for some door, some
hidden exit. My head bumped against some object. I stepped back with
a cry of pain and glanced up. A bar of metal projected from the wall.
Reaching up I grasped it, tugged at it. Slowly, smoothly it moved. A
blaze of light fell upon us. A wide opening showed above our heads. I
grasped the edge, swung myself up, and cried out in utter amazement. I
was standing in the patio of my own palace!