The Bloody Pyramid

A Story by Tazz S.H.

Historical fiction - time of the Aztecs

Prologue

Billowy smoke curled around the man’s caramel ankles as he set foot into the steamy jungle. The man was weary now; he walked with a careful skulk in his step. Though it was pitch black, the man kept his eyes wide open, staring into the darkness. Beads of sweat trickled down his thighs, dampening his loincloth. He walked stiffly; half crouched, not daring to even gulp. His spear, stained red at the tip with blood, made of shards of obsidian and thick vines stayed balanced in his arms, ready to launch at full throttle if so much as a light wind blew his hair; an elegant stream of jet-black night that flew down his back in a single, graceful ponytail. Silence hung like a dead fish on a line in the air, save for a few hoots and cries of the jungle animals.
Every vein in the man’s body was a live wire, he felt fully alive. His heart was beating hard in his chest and he braced himself for an attack. The man had been running. From something. From something that was out there. Whatever it was, it was following him. It would take him. That’s what he knew deep in his heart. A fear had implanted itself within his countenance as he stumbled suddenly, upon hearing leaves rustling behind him. He regained his balance and threw himself down into the tall grass, listening intently.
Voices. Leaves rustling. Shouts. The golden light of a torch suddenly sparked in the distance. The voices were drifting closer. They were going to find him. They would find him and take him away, break every bone in his body. Show him no mercy. He would suffer a slow, painful death.
At this point, the man began to pray intensely to the god of fate.
“Oh, my dear Lord Tezcatlipoca! Keep me safe. I think not it is my time to go! Keep me safe, keep me hidden from danger.”
Footsteps crunched the grass near the man. Shadows danced in what little light the moon could produce in the black of the jungle.
A far off voice called, “Have you found the scoundrel?” Dark, haughty laughter echoed through the trees.
“Not yet,” snarled a deep voice from the grass. Annoyance burned in its tone.
“Well you better find him quick! The chief needs him alive.”
“Oh, trust me,” the one in the grass spat. “He will be quite dead before he reaches the chief’s custody.”
Raucous laughter emanated throughout the trees.
“You’re still angry about that wound that b*****d gave you, to the arm?”
“That scum will be sorry by the time I get to him,” the one in the grass promised.
The man, hiding, stayed frozen in his spot. Not a single breath of his was taken leisurely.
The other voice, far off, laughed again.
“Then you are as what they say, Cipactli, a crocodile, as your name means.”
“Yes, and the same to you, Coaxoch, the serpent flower. I quite enjoy in particular your methods of termination, my friend. So very graceful, yet deadly.”
The man hidden in the grass felt nauseous. He wished to every god he could think of to guide him out of the jungle safely, to be away from these great enemies.
More pleasant laughter.
“Let us waste not, our precious time, brother. Who knows what hungry lions will get to our prey first.” Coaxoch replied.
At that exact moment, golden light of flames illuminated the vicinity of Cipactli’s view. Everything, from the tips of grass blades to the fleshy, caramel skin of the hidden man could be seen. All was exposed, and nothing not. Almost instinctively, the man wanted to shrink away from the light, crawl into the shadows, and stay incognito.
The man could now clearly see Cipactli’s face, as it was illuminated by the torch. His mouth had curved into a slow, wicked smile. He was bare-chested, and built well. His arms bulged with muscles and his jaw line looked hard enough to cut wood with. Feathers adorned his hair and war paint had smeared around his now beady snake-like eyes. Gauges and piercings had decorated Cipactli’s face. Bone necklaces and beads clattered against his firm chest. There were strange tattoos on his arms.
The man in the grass had sworn he’d never seen a more gruesome sight than this.
“Well, well, well,” the Crocodile thundered. “What have we here?”
Footsteps sounded and Coaxoch soon appeared beside him. He had similar looks to his companion, both brute and majestic, at the same time.
“I see you’ve found your little rabbit to eat, brother.”
The man could hear every bit of sweet malice in the Serpent Flower’s tone and he badly wanted to retch.
Badly wanted to run out of there, just run, far away, away, and back to his home, where he knew he would be safe.
“Don’t move,” Coaxoch hissed, and stalked towards him in the grass. “Or I’ll spear you through your throat.” He kicked away the man’s spear.
“I have a family!” The caramel man cried as he was hoisted up. “I have a young daughter. And a wife ready to bear my son.”
“Don’t we all?” Coaxoch laughed as he roughly shoved the man into Cipactli, who bound his wrists with thick vines. They began to lead him deep into the jungle.
“Please,” the man mourned. “Please let me go. Please.”
Cipactli’s smile suddenly turned upside down and he frowned darkly. He whipped the caramel man around and punched him in the face, then spat at the ground.
“Don’t you get it, fool? You were meant to be here, at this time, and at this place. There will no redemption for you! You are sentenced to die.”
The man continued to struggle and scream and beg, he became a figure of beseech.
Annoyance crossed both of Coaxoch and Cipactli’s faces as they each took the man’s arms and dragged him away, into the depths of the jungle, into oblivion, into Hell, some may say, as it is said that the man’s screams and pleads, can still be heard throughout the wild.
And it is unknown what these men have done to the caramel man, just that he had been led to some place, where fate, fully fledged, awaited him.
• • •

Fresh wood. Moss on trees. The sweet coos of the quail birds. The earthly scent of the soil on the ground. Everything I absolutely loved"I don’t think I’d ever get used to this place, it was as if I were dreaming. Like I hadn’t grown up in these woods all my life. Being a woman in the tribe, my job was to mainly prepare food that the huntsmen brought in.

I’d wake up early before anyone in the morning, and venture throughout the sea of leafy green, watching the day age. I picked flowers and collected berries to examine. I wasn’t really supposed to be here because it was dangerous. There were wild cats and poisonous serpents out there. Things I surely wouldn’t be able to fend off. Things I should leave to a man.
As far as I knew, there were a lot of things us females didn’t do, and certainly not alongside the men.
I can recall the times of my childhood, when I would sneak out after the men of the tribe had left to go hunting. I’d follow them, looking for their tracks in the mud. I grew up in this forest. And I knew every route it contained, so I never got lost following the huntsmen while maintaining my stealth. I often heard them shouting and running, the screams and squeals of the helpless beasts they slaughtered, and immediately felt horrible, not being able to do anything to save the poor creatures.
All sympathy vanished when the animal sat roasted and cooked, smelling mouth-wateringly delicious on the table after Mother and her female companions spent hours washing, cleansing, and gutting the meat.
Even now I’d go, following the trail of the hunters, whenever I had some leisure time, to watch them have at another victory in the forest. It brought a smile to my face to see the men of the tribe, working together, using both skill, intelligence and strength to take care of us all. To help us to survive, grow, advance. It was one of the simple things in life that truly made me smile.
Sitting here now, on my stool in the cooking area of the village, I sat daydreaming of the past, and how lively it all felt when it was so new.
At that moment, there was a sudden stir in the air, the hunters were returning from their daily hunt. I felt a sudden flush of happiness as I realized what this meant. Zolin was coming back! The villagers crowded around the group of men, a high chatter of voices going around. Dropping the cooking utensil I was using, I brushed myself off and hurried to the crowd.
When I arrived, a woman was writhing, screaming and shrieking as if in pain. Tears were streaming down her face and she kept on trying to throw herself upon the hunters.
“WHERE IS HE?!” She demanded, clawing one of the men, who had the look of someone who’d seen too much. Bleak-eyed, blood on his face.
“He"He’s missing…” replied one of the hunters. His hands were shaking.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to one of the villagers.
“Centehua’s husband is missing…he hasn’t come back with the rest of the hunters…she‘s extremely upset.”
Oh, Lord. What had happened? Where could he be? I recalled Centehua’s husband, Chimali. A tall, sturdy man. Brave. Light-skinned, like caramel. He was the lead hunter, and the one who taught Zolin to fight.
Centehua was on the ground now, rolling in the dirt, just sobbing and sobbing. The elderly women of the tribe tried to comfort her, but she screamed at them to leave her alone. Centehua’s daughter, aged 5 years, stood a few feet away from her, wide-eyed, unknowing.
Tears sprung to my eyes, and I remembered Zolin. Where was he? Who else was missing from the group? My head snapped to the side and I suddenly began searching frantically, looking everywhere for those familiar shoulders, that long hair, those eyes…
I began to push through the crowd, saying his name over and over. “Zolin. Zolin. Zolin!” Where was he? Why couldn’t I find him? Why couldn’t I see him? Everywhere I looked, shocked faces. Screams from the mourning woman. The empty faces of the hunters, blood on their bodies, sharp mumbles here and there. Zolin! Zolin!
Strong arms suddenly wrapped themselves around me from behind and I heard his soft, silky voice, murmuring into my ears.
“I’m right here, Izel…” Relief flooded into me and I relaxed my stiff position into his arms.
I turned around and looked up into my husband’s light-colored eyes. They too, looked like they’d seen too much, far more than what he could handle.
“Oh, thank the Lords!” I cried and hugged him tightly. “I thought you were gone, too…I was so scared. My heart"I think it stopped for a moment.”
“Shhh,” he said, and rested his chin on my head.
“What happened out there, Zolin?” My lip quivered.
“Why’ve you returned so late? We…all of us were expecting you sooner.”
A hunter named Atl appeared beside Zolin.
“Zolin,” he muttered quickly. “We must report to the chieftain about the incident, immediately!”
“I will be there soon, go on without me,” he assured Atl.
Atl backed off slowly, and broke into a run towards the chieftain’s hut.
Zolin looked back at me.
“Something happened to Chimali…we were following him, but then he told us to turn around and run. Something’s out there. It was after us all. I glanced something, like a shadow, over my head and I knew we were in danger. We wanted to make sure Chimali was with us, but he yelled at us to escape with a ferocity I had never seen before, that we had no choice but to obey.”
With that said, Zolin cupped my face in his hands and kissed me.
“I’ll be back soon, okay? I’m going to go report to the chieftain. See you soon.”
Angst washed over me as I watched him walk away and disappear.
• • •

A feeling of security flooded back into me as I felt Zolin shuffle into our hut and lie down next to me later that night. His weight filled the lonely spot beside me on the wooden cot. I remember forging it with him on the first day after out marriage. Strong branches and twigs we had spent hours carving into shape, into the proper durability, then tied with thick vines. Zolin let out a long sigh that prompted me to speak.
“I noticed the wound on your rib,” I said in the darkness. “It looked pretty deep. But you are up and moving and vibrant as ever.”
“It almost killed me,” He said with a pained voice. I touched the wound lightly with my fingertips where the medicine man had stuck several medicinal leaves. He would heal quickly, gods be with him.
“I felt something pierce me. I don’t know what it was, but it fell off instead of lodging in me. I thought I’d surely die. And the village, the people…you…everything would be taken away from me,” I could sense that he was frowning in the dark. “We lost Chimali today. What do we have left?” he moaned.
I brought my hand to his cheek and stroked his face.
“You are strong, my love. Brave and courageous, and worthy.”
Right then, a breeze passed and made the trees outside rattle gently and brought about a chill to the air.
Zolin chuckled, a hint of sadness in his tone.
“And what if, Izel, my love, what if the wind blows and carries me away one day? What then?”
Uncertainty had crept into his tone.
“I’m right here, Zolin. Living and breathing. It is because of you I’m still alive. Living and breathing. I remember that one day when you speared that golden leopard that roamed the woods, the one that ignited fear into the hearts of all the villagers for a long time. You are my hero.”
He sighed again, and I continued.
“You are the savior of this village. You bring health and prosperity into the lives of people. Into mine.”
He brought his face down to my throat.
“You are the spirit of the jungle,” I whispered.
He murmured into my skin, “We will never depart,” and then the night washed over us.
• • •

I awoke to a muffled scream. I sat bolt upright in the cot and frantically looked around me, trying to see through the darkness. Zolin was asleep next to me; in fact, the whole village was. Did I just imagine that scream? No. There was again, in the distance. I quietly peeked an inch outside of the door to our hut, squinting in the night.
I could see Centehua outside, her arms were bound and she was bent over, a tall figure standing over her. Her child was sitting on the ground, sniffling quietly. The tall figure moved a little out of the shadows and his face was seen.
I gasped. His entire face was smeared with strange black markings, large gauges on his ears, making his lobes dip. His nose and lips were pierced. His hair was tied up high, pieces of bones encircling his head like a crown.
Suddenly, someone walked past our hut swiftly, almost making me jump out of my skin.
I slipped back into the depths of our hut, gasping hard. Tried hard to take in what I’d just seen.
Hearing a deep grunt, I hurried back to the door and inched it open a crack, trying to make out the voices I heard.
The one who walked past our hut held a staff. He unexpectedly crashed his staff down on the ground and barked out an order to the man hunched over Centehua. He dropped Centehua and she fell to the ground like a used, rag doll.
Terror stabbed into my heart. I didn’t recognize any of these people. Who were these people? Why were they here? Why were they hurting Centehua?
I did what instinct told me to do first.
I shook Zolin awake.
“Zolin! Zolin, wake up!” I whispered sharply.
He mumbled in his sleep before opening his eyes. Irritation crossed his face before he took in the expression of my face.
“What’s wrong, Izel?” He sat straight up.
“There are beastly men here,” I cried. “One of them was raping Centehua!”
A look of bewilderment crossed his face and he jumped to his feet. He grabbed his spear and rushed outside.
“No, Zolin!” I screamed. But it was too late.
He was already outside and seen.
The next thing I heard were shouts and sounds of struggle as I watched Zolin slammed himself into the one with the staff.
A few more sounds of scuffling, and then a final thud. Zolin was lying on the ground, a stream of blood flowing out of his nose.
“Are you alright, chief?” one of the men grunted.
“I’m fine,” the chief growled back. “Nothing I can’t handle. And what were you doing with that woman? Don’t you realize we can’t have any dead?!”
“She kicked me when I went to take her child,”
“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOUR EXCUSES!”
The other man fell deadly silent.
My lip quivered with fear.
“Did you kill this one?” The chief asked. I realized he was talking about Zolin.
Almost quietly, I heard Zolin groan.
“Tie him up!” The chief snarled and gave a kick to Zolin’s stomach. I cried out in fear, and their heads suddenly snapped up.
Another figure suddenly appeared out from behind a tree. It was another of the enemy’s men. He smiled wickedly at me as he stalked towards me. I, the prey, he, the predator.
I gripped a knife I had hidden in my skirt earlier and shuddered.
“Stay away from me!” I warned, in the fiercest tone I could muster.
The man, uttering an ugly snigger, pounced on me and we both fell to the ground. He giggled darkly as I struggled against him.
I suddenly heard Zolin choke out with anger and to my surprise and theirs, he rose and punched the enemy chief in the face with his bound hands, then charged at the man on top of me. The man rolled out of the way, and Zolin crashed onto the ground. I scattered to my feet and tried to help him up, but the breath was knocked out of me as I realized I was being dragged away, a strong hand clamped around my throat and fingers digging into my windpipe.
“Izel!” He howled.
The enemy’s men bashed a rod onto Zolin’s back and forced him onto his knees. The enemy chief, wiping blood from his lips bounded to him and his captor, and bellowed another order out. Someone handed him a large weapon, with an enormous blade.
All around me, the people of our village were awakening, most being attacked and shot by the enemy’s men, whose numbers were far greater than the men who inhabited this village. I knew what was going to happen next. I knew. But I didn’t want to watch. I didn’t want to see. Yet as I tried to turn my head away, my own captor held it firm in place, as if he wanted me to witness my own husband’s demise.
“Escape me, b*****d? Unheard of!” The enemy chief spat blood on Zolin.
He slapped Zolin with the blade, and a large line of red split down his cheek.
But Zolin didn’t cry out in pain. He was looking at me. Gazing intensely, with the eyes of a sheep before it was slaughtered, chest heaving, breathing shallow. He wasn’t ready to go yet. His eyes told me that. He knew. He knew he was going to die soon.
He whispered one word. “Izel.”
And then the blade cut cleanly across his throat and I could hear the sick gurgle of death bubbling from his lips. His eyes lolled back into his head and his body slumped forward.
Pain shot up my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. Zolin was dead. They killed him. They killed my husband. They killed my husband!
I felt my whole world being shattered broken, the pieces just raining down on my head. Everything was going blurry and I was being whisked away, to God knows where, torture, pain, death, all reeking behind me.
Huts were bursting into flames, men went into full-battle, women and children let out blood-curdling screams, everything was being destroyed.
Yet I could take no heed of it, no heed of what was happening before my eyes, it seemed like a dream that I was sure I’d wake up from soon, but the memory of Zolin’s eyes was still too fresh in my mind. Too real. And like that, I had no choice but to let reality sink in, and the enemy take over.
• • •

Scary, disturbing little demons. Dancing, slithering, curving bodies, waves of flowing feathery headdresses, shrieking triplets of harpies here and there; bones and beads clattering against their naked chests.
A tornado of fury. Chaotic Hell was erupting all over me.
A slash. A burn. They were whipping us. Urging us to move upward. Move through these demonic parade. Move up these damned stoned steps, whose levels were stained with blood.
They had brought us to this place. A barren land. A land, occupied by thousands upon thousands of shrieking little monsters. At least, that’s what it looked like to me.
I could clearly see the top of the stone pyramid I was on, streams of blood staining the steps with all of its grotesque repulsiveness, and high above, at the crest, was the executioner.
Chanting and grinning with his crooked black teeth, glaring hungrily at the slave before him, his nostrils flared; the slave’s fleshy stomach exposed to the point of the obsidian blade. Time seemed to slow down. The ground thundered with the stampeding of the dancing onlookers, shrieks and cries of delicious murder. Of death, of gore. The sun beamed down hard and scorched the land with the furious excitement.
And suddenly, it was my turn. I stepped up to the top, an amazing breeze I had never felt in my life blew upon my body, igniting my soul with deep fear and amazement. My vision became dark suddenly.
I am bathing in a world of inky night; all around me, anyone, no one"is there. I can feel my eardrums ready to explode, there’s this tension building up in the atmosphere, a strange force; I am being crushed by it.
Heartbeats, voices, screams, sizzling hisses, laughs, whispers, my own confusion muddling into my ears, my mind"I feel several pairs of arms lie me on my back, against something hard, my body arching towards the sky and then I am brought back to reality.
The sun hits me"all of a sudden, its bright light blinding me in all my astonishment. I see again the stampeding, murderous demons down below, and all I can think is how can these people, who are just as human as me, be celebrating this? This"this unholy celebration? This so-called religious affair? How can they? Tears spring into my eyes. How can they celebrate the fact that anyone can be taken up here? Anyone, even their own brothers, or sisters, or parents, or daughters, sons, aunts, cousins, wives"husbands"can be sacrificed?
The priest, looking down at my face, makes wild hand gestures above my body, and chants strange, terrifying words.
“Lord Kukulkan!” He roars at the sky. “Please take our offering, please take our blood!”
Another breeze up on the pyramid stirs my soul, and the last thing I pray for is Zolin. Zolin’s soul, Zolin’s honesty, Zolin’s strength, bravery, warmth, personality, care"love.

I see the face of the executioner, bright as day, dark as night, his face contorting into what I think is a smile"or a frown.
And feel the last feeling I will feel.

Pain, simply turns, into nothingness.

© 2013 Tazz S.H.

Author's Note

Had to write this for an assignment. (if you haven't guessed already—I am enrolled in a course at school called "Creative Writing". Hehe. Acing it with high 90's. >:D ^_^

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Featured Review

Jocelyn_wonders

You certainly have the gift of storytelling. Your characters feel real and their emotions become those of the reader. I loved the Aztec names you gave your characters. The story, as written here, needs revision. There are a few issues of grammar, spelling, and word useage. I read your story because I am fascinated by the Aztecs.