William stood there with a disgusted expression for a moment, gawking at the grisly scene of butchered men piled like stacks of meat. He stumbled back outside, went behind the hut, and threw up.
The Serpent Priest came to William’s side. “By the condition of the dead, this occurred several days ago,” he said. Priest Quisac returned his attention to the Calakmul warriors at the camp, studying their behavior as they passed a jug between them.
“But what can we do?” William asked. “There are too many of them.”
“Luck is with us, for they drink of the wild agave, clouding their minds.”
“You mean they’re drunk?”
Priest Quisac thought for a moment. “I believe you understand correctly. Soon they will sleep, and then we will free the remaining priests.”
Crouching low, they hustled over to another hut closer to the camp, and they waited for the warriors to become more intoxicated. They kept watch for a long time as the warriors danced around the fire-chanting, drinking, and gorging on chunks of the cooked boar. A stocky warrior stood and threw his bone into the fire, causing a puff of sparks to ascend, grabbing everyone’s attention. He swayed back and forth as he spoke.
“What is he saying?” William asked.
“He plans to bring out a captive for questioning.”
Two warriors left the group and staggered over to a hut near the lagoon, dragging out an elderly man wearing only a loincloth; his hands were tied behind his back.
“It’s Priest Hexel,” the Serpent Priest whispered in a worried voice.
The warriors shoved the captive to the ground, yanked him up by his hair, and then tied him to a tree near the bonfire. The drunken leader staggered up to the prisoner. He grabbed Priest Hexel’s face and shouted at him.
“He demands to know the location of the sacred items,” Priest Quisac whispered. “The priest will not reveal this… they will kill him.” He pulled an obsidian dagger from his belt and handed it to William. “While their attention is on Priest Hexel, take this dagger and go to the hut where the other captives are being held. Cut them free. Tell them who you are-that you are here with me.”
Priest Quisac’s eyes darted as he surveyed the area. “Their weapons are by the rocks-near the water. Lead the priests there and await my command.”
William nodded and tiptoed over to the hut of the captives, hiding behind it. He peeked back at the campfire and noticed the warriors gathering around the tree that Priest Hexel was tied to. The leader picked up a spear and threw it at the priest. Losing his balance in the process, the leader fell to the ground, and the spear sailed through the air, not even hitting the tree. All the warriors laughed at him.
William went up the steps of the platform and snuck inside the hut, hearing gasps from the old men. “I am Balam of Dzibanche… sent by Priest Quisac. We’re here to rescue you,” he said, articulating his words as clearly as he could in Yucatec-Maya, figuring that their old ears would have a hard time grasping his accent. The bloodstone glowed as he spoke, illuminating the room in a slight shade of red. He hoped the Calakmul warriors wouldn’t notice the light emanating from the hut, and he attempted to shield its glow by cupping his hand over it.
“You are the Balam… sent by the gods?” a frail-looking priest asked, gawking at William with big eyes.
“Sure, whatever… Just do as I say if you want to live,” William urged. He explained the plan as he cut them loose. William was concerned that the four priests looked much older than Priest Quisac, and he wondered if they would be able to fight.
After retrieving spears and maquahuitl swords, William and the priests crouched down, waiting for Priest Quisac’s command. The anticipation of the coming battle was nerve-racking. William took a deep breath, knowing that in just a few moments he would be fighting to the death.
The rowdy group of Calakmul warriors grew impatient, and they moved in several steps nearer to their target. The leader stepped forward with another spear in his hands. William heard him say that he couldn’t miss from such a close range. The drunken leader steadied his aim and leaned back to throw, when a fluttering sound, followed by a thud, drew his attention to an obsidian dart wedged between his ribs. The leader staggered with a look of anguish before falling to the ground.
“Attack!” Priest Quisac hollered. He launched a second dart, impaling another Calakmul warrior in the neck. The warrior pulled the dart out, and his blood sprayed everywhere, splattering on his comrades as he fell over.
The warriors rushed around in a panic, grabbing any weapons they could find, and they stampeded toward Priest Quisac. The Serpent Priest readied himself for close battle, gripping a sharp dart in one hand and his atlatl in the other.
As the Calakmul warriors charged Priest Quisac, William and the four priests raced in. To buy them time to catch up, William rushed up an embankment, held the bloodstone with a tight grip, and yelled as loud as he could, blasting his voice even further with the power of the bloodstone, “Over here!”
The Calakmul warriors spun around with startled looks when they saw William standing above them; his face was lit up like the devil from the red glow of the bloodstone. Their hesitation provided the priests with just enough time to reach them, killing half of the confused men in a quick blur of activity-stabbing them with spears, and smashing their heads with maquahuitl swords. Priest Quisac also moved in, slashing his atlatl from one warrior to the next.
One of the Calakmul warriors rushed at Priest Hexel-still tied to the tree-with his club held high, ready to bash the priest’s head in. William saw this and dashed to the priest’s aid, gripping his spear with both hands, holding it ahead of him to block the warrior’s advance. Their paths intersected at the same instant in front of the tree, and their combined momentum caused William’s spear to pierce clean through the man’s thigh.
The warrior lunged forward, wildly swinging his club, but William kept his distance by holding him off with the spear in his leg. The warrior’s blood splattered against William’s chest, and it dripped over bloodstone; the gem began to burn. A burst of crimson light blazed from the bloodstone, illuminating the area around the tree like he had just switched on a flood lamp. William felt an intense thirst come over him. He trembled as the warrior’s blood raced up the spear, along his arms, and went right into the burning stone on his chest. He wanted to drop the spear, but he couldn’t let go. It was both a horrible and exhilarating experience at the same time. The warrior turned pale, let loose an agonizing squeal, and fell over like a dried out tree.
The bloodstone issued another intense flash before fading back to its usual dim glow. William released his grip from the spear and backed away with a feeling of revulsion.
Priest Hexel shuttered as William approached; he was clearly freaked out by what he had just witnessed.
“It’s okay, I’m a friend,” William said, as he cut the priest loose.
Priest Hexel thanked William and then joined Priest Quisac by the campfire. A look of satisfied revenge had settled in the Serpent Priest’s silver eyes; they flickered from the light of the fire blazing before him. He nodded to William, seeming to understand the bizarre event that occurred with the bloodstone.
William gazed across the battle scene. The fortunate Calakmul warriors were already dead, for those still squirming with their bloody injuries were finished off by the priests with a final stab, slit to the neck, or heavy bash over the head. It seemed barbaric to William as he watched how the priests wrapped things up.
A tremendous fire reached high above the tree line as huts near the shore of the lagoon were set ablaze. It had been a gruesome task that morning to separate the dead into smaller groups to be burned-dragging the decayed stinking bodies from one place to another, with swarms of flies following them.