Chapter Eleven

The ornately dressed priest moved from in front of the altar as the terrified girl reached the temple mesa. As he moved, the young girl was afforded a perfect view of her impending future. Her eyes darted from the priest to the stone altar. Her heart nearly stopped as she stared at cold slab. The oblong obsidian blade lying at its center sent a shudder through her body. She knew her fate.

The horror she felt won out and broke through her defiance. She fell to her knees on the cold stone floor. No one moved to help her up. No one dared touch her. She had been purified for the sacrifice. Anyone who defiled her purity would be sacrificed along with her to pay the gods for an unclean offering.

The priest and guards waited impatiently for the girl to pick herself up again. Convulsive sobs wracked her body. Her hands shielded her face from the priest’s vicious scowl, but the thunderous crack of his staff on the stone floor silenced her crying instantly. Quickly she uncovered her face and struggled to right herself. As she stood, she was silently instructed to proceed to the altar with harsh gestures by the mute guards waiting beside the fire.

Standing next to the altar, she saw deep red smears covering the stone. The blood of thousands of sacrifices. The stains were never washed away. To wash the blood away showed the gods that the people were ashamed of what had happened. The stains reminded the people of the city of their obligation to pacify the gods.

The girl forced away thoughts of past sacrifices she had watched and cheered for in earlier years, and hated herself for her involvement. As a child she had watched, enjoying the festivities and celebrating when the sacrifice was made. It had been like a play, some grand game of pretend. Safe on the ground she had never seen the blood, but she had sometimes heard the cries, the screaming over the cheering of the crowd. The celebrating she had done as a child was before she knew about her own future role. Now she knew that the agonizing cries would be her own.

Trembling silently next to the altar, she tried to wish away the horror her life had become. The priest removed the obsidian blade from the center of the alter and held it in his steady, practiced hand. Holding the black shard in both hands, he lifted it, presenting it to the sky, to the gods. Drums sounded.

Lowering the weapon, he now held it firmly in only one hand. The point nearly brushed her skin as he held it next to her heart. The smooth surface shone in the sunlight, shattering her wishes of reprieve and signaling the beginning of the impending violence.

Unsure of what she was expected to do next, she stood staring at the rough surface of the altar, too terrified to move. Compelled to face reality, she reached out her hand and touched the bloody stains on the face of the altar. The slight touch seemed to awaken the stone’s past victims. The pain and anguish of thousands seemed to reach out to her in that brief second. Terrified, she pulled her hand away quickly. The guard’s eyes glimmered from behind his painted face. He reveled in her terror.

The strange sensation assaulted her again, but she stiffened and refused to acknowledge it. The guard only smiled. The priest raised the blade again, presenting it now to the crowd. Overwhelmed with fear the raven haired beauty fell to her knees. Her head in her hands, she fell on top of the altar and cried with more true emotion than she had ever felt before.

Leaning closer to her head, the guard’s hissing voice whispered in her ear. “They come to welcome you.”

***

Way beyond bolting up in bed because of the awful dreams, my eyes opened slowly, already filled with tears. I could still hear the echoes of the girl sobbing with her head cradled in her arms. I felt the tears run down my own cheeks but did not brush them away. In the dark of my room I felt as alone as the doomed girl. The shadows in the corners of my room seemed to creep closer, silently stalking like the ancient guards. Every sliver of moonlight became the terrible shining blade from the altar.

My shadow guards seemed to be keeping a silent watch until it was their time to collect their newest sacrifice. I closed my eyes to the shadows, but found no comfort. Pulling the thin blanket over my head in a childish effort to put the shadows out of my mind, I sobbed into my pillow. I quietly fell asleep amid free flowing tears, free of dreams for the rest of the night, but not free of fear.