Ironhelm - Douglas Niles [10]
Naltecona rose to his feet and sauntered down the stairs, closely followed by his horde of courtiers. He stood a full head above them all and walked with a conscious pride that made him seem taller still.
Naltecona could not entirely contain his agitation as he found himself hurrying through the door into the grand hallway beyond. Followed by his retinue and the guard, he crossed a walkway over one of the canals, which flowed directly through his palace. He then climbed a stairway and emerged onto a broad balcony.
Across the huge plaza stood the great pyramid, higher than any other structure in Nexal. Side by side atop the pyramid stood the tall temple of Zaltec and the lesser shrines of the sun god, Tezca, and the rain god, Calor, the two favorite sons of Bloody Zaltec.
Indeed, true to the guard's word, the large temple in the center smoked and crackled at the heart of a roaring blaze. The stone walls glowed red, oozing thickly downward. Before the stunned eyes of the watchers, the mighty building slowly melted away.
"There was no spark to start it, Most Revered Counselor," repeated the guard.
"Indeed." Naltecona looked for a long time at the dying blaze, his face an inscrutable mask. What can it mean? he wondered secretly.
"We shall have it rebuilt at once!" he barked. "Until then, the clerics will use the Pyramid of the Moon. Zaltec shall still feast tonight."
They must not see my fear!
The deep growls of the guardian jaguars still rumbled around Hoxitl as the cleric made his way slowly toward the mouth of the Highcave. He muffled a curse as he tripped against a rock in the darkness.
For an entire long night, he and a trio of apprentices had climbed huge, smoldering Mount Zatal. The volcano overlooked the city of Nexal and was known to house the sacred soul of Zaltec himself. Now, not far below the summit, Hoxitl and the young priests reached the entrance to the mystic cave that the patriarch knew as the home of the Ancient Ones.
"Wait here," hissed the cleric, and his black-robed assistants needed no encouragement. They nodded their heads, bobbing the spiked ends of their blood-caked hair, then sat, sober-faced, outside the mouth of the cave.
Wisps of steam and burning, sulfurous vapors swirled around Hoxitl as the high priest entered the cave. He threw back his black hood and peered into the darkness, which was faintly broken by occasional flickering pools of crimson bubbling rock.
Suppressing a cough, Hoxitl held his breath as he passed a noxiously spuming geyser. Tears came to his eyes, further blinding him.
Then he sensed the presence of one of the Ancient Ones as the shadowy figure moved from an alcove to block his path.
"Praises to Zaltec!" whispered the cleric.
"High praises to the god of night and war!" hissed the black-cloaked figure, completing the ritual greeting.
Hoxitl stared at the Ancient One as he had stared a score of times before, but he learned nothing he had not learned from previous observations. Who are you? What are you? he wondered.
The Ancient One stood shorter than Hoxitl, and his figure was more slight. His body was completely swathed in dark robes and cloth, down to the thin gauze that concealed his hands while still allowing him full use of his dextrous, slender fingers.
"The sign," began Hoxitl. "We must know the meaning!"
"We know of your concern, and its significance." The dark figure spoke in muffled tones, his voice coarse. "You have guessed correctly in your words to the counselor. The fire in the sky is indeed the sign of Zaltec's hunger. He must have more hearts! He starves for lack of blood!"
Hoxitl nodded, pleased with his analysis of the sign, yet deeply disturbed by this evidence of the Ancient One's wisdom. This frail figure knew what had transpired in the Revered Counselor's throne room that very afternoon!
"But there is more." The voice of the Ancient One dropped even further, to a dull rasp. "Zaltec desires the heart of a young girl, a child living in the village of Palul. Her name is Erixitl, and her life must be given to Zaltec