Chapter Twenty-Seven

I stood, amazed at what I was seeing. My skin burned from the bright sun overhead. Standing high atop the mesa, I felt as if the sun had moved right up next to me. No breeze came to cool my glistening skin. The putrid stench of the ceremonial fire filled my nostrils, stealing away what remained of the clean air left in my lungs.

Regal in his ceremonial dress the high priest stood waiting, a long black knife held loosely in his hand. His shoulders sagging with weariness, a quiet sigh escaped his lips. The men who had come to claim me, now stood in a half circle behind us, as if there were any real chance of escape.

Even after hearing my grandpa recount his great uncle’s story, I was astounded. Everything didn’t just look real, it was real, the heat, the smells, the stones under my feet. The only hitch in this timeless reality was the absence of any surroundings. The hills of South America were green and rolling, the rivers swift and long. But here, there was only the temple. No crowd of onlookers cheered. No birds flew overhead. There was only the mist, as if it had covered the whole earth.

Silently the high priest nodded his head, the wooden mask bobbing with his movement. The silent guards seized my arms, tearing me from my grandpa’s grip.

“No!”

The scream was torn from grandfather and granddaughter alike.

Reaching for my hand, my grandpa stepped forward in a rush. The loud crack barely registered to my ears, but the pain quickly swept through him. Lying on the hard stone of the temple mesa, my grandpa moaned, clutching his head. A thin stream of blood ran through his fingers. His eyes rolled in pain as he heaved in breath after breath. “Arra,” he croaked.

“Stop,” the priest shouted. The man trembled visibly. “Just hold him.” He turned his back, a hand going under his mask to his eyes.

The two remaining guards resumed their work. “No,” I screamed, struggling against their stone-like grips. “You can’t do this to me.” My eyes caught the priest’s. Desperation poured down my face with every tear. “Please, please don’t do this.”

“I have no choice!” The strain in his eyes overwhelmed me. He had gloried in offering sacrifices to his god in my dreams. That joy was gone now. He looked at the blade in his hand with disgust. Looking like he wanted to throw it from the top of the temple, he clutched it more tightly instead. His weakness pushed me forward.

“You do. Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to kill me.”

The priest’s whole body sagged, worn from centuries of fulfilling his duty. “I’m sorry Arrabella. I have no choice but to see you die by my own wretched hand. The gods demand it, and they cannot be denied.”

“No, you can stop this. You must stop this from happening. Please,” I asked. I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t want to watch another girl die. He wanted to stop the gruesome murders, but I did not believe him when he said he could do nothing to stop it. He was the one who had made the deal in the first place. Surely he could undo it if he really wanted to.

“You can’t do this, you evil beast.” Fury dripped from my words.

The movement started slowly, just his hand moving from his side. Suddenly the hand whipped to his forehead and ripped the wooden mask from his face. My struggling stopped, and my gaze fell upon the man’s face. The difference in his features shocked me. He looked to be the same age as he had been in my dreams, but he was barely recognizable as the same man.

His skin was pulled too tightly against his skull, yet in some places seemed to sag much more than it should. Red veins meandered through the whites of his eye. His pupils, too large for the brightness of the day, seemed to soak in every horrible detail of the mesa. His teeth were yellowed and weathered with cracks. Misery and hopelessness radiated from him.

“Evil beast,” he repeated, sighing deeply. Withering even further as he spoke the words, the priest looked ready to collapse. Suddenly, the weariness in his face disappeared in a flash, replace by a furious rage. “How dare you name me an evil beast. You call me evil, when I only thought to save a life, Kivera’s life. Do you think I was pleased when she was brought forward as a sacrifice? I was horrified, but it was too late.”

My guards, who seemed to be confused by the change in procedure, had lessened their grip on my body. Seizing the opportunity, I wrenched out of their grasp. Fear slapped their faces and they lunged for me again. The high priest waved them away. Reluctantly, they eased their stance. The priest’s strange young, but old, hands covered his face, squeezing his flesh.

“What are you talking about? You killed thousands in the name of your gods. What made you give in to Kivera’s pleas, of all people? Why make an exception for that selfish little twit? Why was she so different?” I asked, my anger not abated by his obvious grief. “Why won’t you save me?”

“Would you willingly do what Kivera did?” he asked.

“Never,” I spat.

“Then I wouldn’t have been able to save you then, either, just as I can’t save you now.”

“But why Kivera? Why offer her such a vile deal, dooming her children to death, just to save her? How could either of you do that?” I stared, accusing him, forcing him to face his treachery.

“Kivera was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” He paused as my scowl deepened, my hand raised as if to attack him. I wanted to wring his neck. A pretty face? Are you kidding me? Katie and Maera had died because of man’s uncontrolled hormones. I eyed the knife in his hand and wondered if I could get it away from him.

Sensing my anger the priest drew the knife behind his body and spoke. “It’s not what you think, Arrabella. I grew up with her. We were children together. I was sent to train in the city, but I went back to see her every chance I got. That summer she was turning sixteen, old enough for me to ask her father’s permission to marry her.

“When I arrived in her village to speak with her father, he was dead and she was already gone. I asked those who weren’t too afraid to speak to me, but all I learned was that she had been taken to the city as a sacrifice to Tlaloc. I raced back to the city, hoping to stop her, but by the time I arrived the priests had already pronounced her the chosen sacrifice for the ceremony. It was binding. Nothing could be done to have the order rescinded.”

The man, if he could be called that, crouched on the ground, his hands squeezing his temples. “I had wanted her for my bride.

My jaw had dropped at the beginning of the man’s confession, now I simply struggled to keep up with his story. Glancing at my grandpa, I saw that he had recovered from the blow to his head and was drinking in every detail. His face was stone, but still strangely reassuring to me.

“I did not know,” the priest continued, “that when she was presented before the priests that she hadn’t gone willingly. I didn’t know why she was there, stolen from her murdered father in an effort for her village leaders to gain favor in the eyes of Tlaloc. Only when she begged for mercy on this temple mesa did I realize what had happened, but then it was too late. Once a sacrifice is declared, it is unlawful to retract the person.

“Tlaloc is not a god of mercy, not in any way. Her pleading, her promise of giving anything to save her own life inspired the mischievous god. He wanted to know how far she would go, how far we both would go, to save her life. She and I both accepted his offer. In exchange for Kivera's life, our daughters became forfeit.”

I swung my fist at him, not caring whether I could actually hurt a being that didn’t really exist. Landing with a sharp snap, the blow barely even fazed the priest. He seemed beyond feeling any more pain than he already bore. The guards stepped forward again, holding my arms tight enough to leave instant bruises.

“We had no idea it would continue like this. You must believe us. Both of us thought he meant her daughters, the ones she actually bore, not every female in her line. We had no idea,” he cried pitifully.

“It doesn’t matter what you thought he meant! Even one life was too many.”

The guards, seemingly no longer content with drawing out what had to be done, lifted me and slammed me onto the altar. The air in my lungs blasted out of my body and sent me into a fit of chocking gasps. The hard pitted surface rubbed against the bare parts of my skin as I squirmed, trying to catch my breath. Pinpoints of pain radiated all over my body from the rough treatment. Every limb was tied securely before I was able to clear my head.

Growling in anger, my grandpa tensed. No longer able to contain his rage, he reared against the ancient warrior holding him. Swinging elbows and fists at his captor, my grandpa tried to free himself. The burly man behind him did not even seem to notice the flailing and screaming. Tears slid down his face, matching my own expression.

“I’m sorry, Arrabella, but I can’t stop it now. The gods cannot be stopped by mortal man,” the priest whined.

“You’re sorry? Is that all you have to say to me?” I met the priest’s eyes again, and held his gaze. “What about your precious Kivera? Is she sorry too? Is she even capable of feeling anything for anyone but herself? Is there any sorrow in her for the hundreds of girls she has murdered?” Unable to continue my angry tirade, I looked away.

“Ask her yourself,” the priest whispered.

I snapped my head back towards the priest. The air wavered next to him, folding and rippling until a slender body materialized. A small woman stood gazing at her feet, motionless. A visible shudder ran through her body. Raising her head timidly, her eyes locked onto the priest’s. A glimmer of joy flashed briefly in her eyes before the realization hit and she collapsed to the ground sobbing.

“No, not again. Skaline, I can’t watch this again, I can’t. Make it stop, please,” she begged him. “I cannot watch another innocent child die. Please don’t let it be time again.”

“Shut up!” I hissed. The realization that Kivera did regret her decision, that she was even capable of emotion, had not lessened my anger in the slightest. I was still being made to pay for Kivera’s selfish choice. The woman snapped her attention to me, stunned by my outburst. “You shut your mouth, Kivera,” I said through gritted teeth. “You have no right to cry. You did this. This is your fault. You deserve every scrap of pain you feel. I hate you, Kivera. I hate you for what you’ve done to me and everyone before me.”

I glared at the woman who had cast my death sentence. Once she had been a beauty, most likely turning every head around her. Now, her body, pocked by misery, hung like a rag doll with little strength left. Kivera approached my bound form, drying her tears furiously.

“I don’t blame you for hating me. I hate myself for what I’ve done. It hasn’t been easy for me either,” she said, as if that excused her. “Six of my children died as sacrifices to Tlaloc, a god I despise with everything I am. Out of sheer mockery we were finally blessed with a son. We were so pleased, pleased to have at least one child that would live past their sixteenth birthday. We thought we had been redeemed, that we could now have some semblance of happiness. We thought it was finally over. We aged, watching our son marry and have his own children.

“The horror of what we had done never faded, but we found small joy in what we had left, until our son’s eldest daughter reached her sixteenth birthday. We had always counted our son as such a blessing, now we knew he was only a device to keep our bloodline alive. Once again we were swept here, I to watch, Skaline to perform the ceremony. It is our eternal punishment for our selfish actions. We can never escape it.

“I wish that I could change things. I can’t bear to watch anyone else die. I was wrong to do what I did, but what can I do now? I cannot command the gods. I am at their mercy, here for their pleasure, nothing more. I wish with all my heart that I could untie you and send you back to your family, but I can’t. I am sorry, truly sorry, Arrabella.”

I turned my head away. What else could I say? Sorry didn’t mean very much to me now. Sorry would not bring anyone back. Not my Aunt Katie, not Maera, there was no saving them. Kivera was desperately seeking to ease her own conscience, nothing more, and I did not want to give her that satisfaction. I glanced at my grandpa, expecting to see my own feelings mirrored in his eyes, but they were not. He watched Kivera, a strange pity flowing from him.

“You can’t just say you’re sorry Kivera, it doesn’t mean anything now,” my grandpa said, his voice calm. “You have to do something. Don’t let Arra die while you stand by and watch.”

“Do something? Do what, old one? What can I do?” she asked, her haggard face heaving with every sob.

“Die,” Alden said quietly. I heard his words, but did not understand at first. Suddenly hope sprung in my heart.

“What?” Kivera asked, chocking back more wracking sobs. “What did you say?”

High Priest Skaline was looking at my grandpa now. Hope tinged his dark eyes as well. Moving closer to Kivera, he pulled her up to a standing position. as

“That’s the only way you can end this,” my grandpa stated. He looked at Kivera and Skaline. It would take them both to make it work. How much shame did they really feel? Was it enough? I hoped that it was. “You have to die Kivera, and you have to be the one to kill her Skaline. You have to be willing to give up now what you couldn’t give up the first time you stood here.”

Still bound to the altar, I struggled to face them directly. I watched as recognition flashed through their minds. It seemed such a simple answer now that my grandpa had presented it. Had they really never considered the idea, I wondered. Or had there just not been enough deaths yet to convince them of the need to repent of their evil choices? Tears fell from their eyes. Skaline embraced his love. Kivera dug her head into his shoulder.

“I know that what was done to you was a terrible thing Kivera, but what you two have done cannot be excused either. No one blames you for wanting to be rescued from such an evil fate, but this,” he said gesturing around him, “cannot go on. It must stop now. Sacrificing yourselves for all the girls to come is the only way to stop the killing. Show the god Tlaloc you aren’t the selfish children you once were. Repent for the choice you made and pay the debt you owe. It’s the only way.”

Sure that what he said was true, I closed my eyes, pleading for them to accept.

“I have never considered this before, but I believe he is right, Kivera. Perhaps Tlaloc will forgive us and remove the curse if we are willing to give each other up. I must perform the ceremony one last time,” he said gravely.

“Will it really work?” Kivera asked. “Could we save her?” She glanced at me, still prone on the altar, with hope in her eyes. “I cannot bear to watch her die.” Skaline nodded, more sure of the proposal with every passing second. “What about the others? Would it be as if we had done it on that first day?”

“No, Kivera. Our choice cannot be erased. What’s done is already done. There is no saving those children, no saving our children. But we can save Arrabella. I’m sure we can at least save her, and every child that might come after her. Think of those we’ll be forced to watch die in years to come if we don’t do this. We can end this, now. The old man is right,” Skaline said, conviction tight in his voice.

Solemnly, Kivera nodded her consent. She released herself from his iron grip. Pride for her decision to sacrifice her life for mine swirled with remorse for everything she had already lost. “Release the child,” Kivera ordered, her voice firm and commanding. The guards jumped to obey her. In seconds I was free, as was my grandpa.

He ran to me. Scooping me into his arms, he hugged me with every ounce of strength he possessed. “It’s alright, honey. You’re safe now. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay now, Grandpa,” I said, trying to calm myself, worried about the blood matted in his hair.

“I wasn’t any help at all was I?” I said. “All I could do was scream at her and hate her for what she had done, but you felt sorry for her, didn’t you?”

My grandpa shook his head wearily. “I never thought I would pity either of them, but when I saw their faces, I felt nothing else.”

A slight sound drew our attention back to our former captors. Standing next to the altar, Kivera’s body was perfectly still. A genuine smile graced her lips. Slowly she lowered herself to the altars face. There were no cords this time. The guards stood aside, looking just as relieved that their endless task was nearing its end. A calmness settled over Kivera as she laid on the altar.

Knife in hand, Skaline slid into place at the head of the altar. His face was composed, but the horror of what he was about to do, kill his own wife for the sake of a young girl he did not know, was plainly visible. The question in his eyes was answered by a stiff nod from Kivera as she gazed at the knife in his hand. Even though she wasn’t technically alive, she would feel its bite. Whether she knew it was the right thing to do or not, she was terrified.

Tears flowed freely from both faces, but neither one would turn aside now, not with their only hope for peace being offered to them. The air wavered briefly. The centuries of pain and torture was lifted from their bodies. I gasped. The two stood transfixed, the exact images from my dream. Kivera’s timeless beauty was restored. Once again, Skaline was the strong young man he had been before trading his soul away.

“I love you,” Skaline whispered, before plunging his obsidian blade into her chest.