“Stop your crying,” he hisses, disgust thick on his lips. “It is an honor to be chosen as a sacrifice. Your death will bring saving rains this dry season.”
The word death sends her into hysterical sobs. “I…don’t…want to …die!” she screams between sobs.
The guards surrounding her hate her for her cowardice. One is making a great effort not to hit her. The priest’s face twists in anger behind his mask, then suddenly changes, perplexed.
“Then why,” he asks with a restrained voice, “did you volunteer yourself as a sacrifice to Tlaloc. It is a great honor and privilege to be chosen, especially this year with the New Fire Ceremony, but only the willing should submit to the gods. Only slaves and prisoners are sacrificed against their will.”
“I am not here by choice,” she snaps. Burning tears have already streaked the carefully painted makeup. She wipes the remaining wetness away with the back of her hand.
“What?” the priest demands. Fury lines his face. “What do you mean, it was not your choice? An unwilling sacrifice will not please Tlaloc as a humble servant would. It may anger him and cause him to withhold the life-giving rain.” His eyes flit rapidly around the mesa. “Who has done this?”
“My village leaders hoped to gain Tlaloc’s favor above other villages. There has been sickness and drought there for several summers. They knew I was born on the day of Tlaloc. They seemed to think it was fitting I should be given back to him on his blessed day,” Kivera says. Vile anger fills the last statement. “I was unwilling to go, but I turn sixteen today. Next year I would be too old to sacrifice to Tlaloc. My father had kept them from taking me in the past, but with this year also being the year of the New Fire, the village elders would wait no longer.”
Kivera takes the most defiant stance she can muster. “They stole me from my bed!” she screams. “In the middle of the night they killed my father and tied me up and carried me away.” Her stance softens. Her anger dissipates, replaced by fear and grief. “Please help me,” she begs. “I don’t want to die.”
“Stop sniveling!” He paces a few steps. “Regardless, you should be proud to be offered to Tlaloc, not crying on the ground begging for rescue!”
Shame for her actions has no place in Kivera’s heart or mind. “Please! You must help me. Please!”
A muscled hand slaps her face, leaving rising red welts. He shudders, struggling to restore his calm. Torn between his duty and desire to please his god, and the terrified girl before him, a feral growl escapes his throat. “You do not willingly submit to Tlaloc, but there is no one else! There must be a sacrifice. There must!” He turns to her glaring. “You must submit!”
“No! I will not die for any god!”
“Tlaloc will be angered. The rains will not come. Sickness will spread. This will all be on your head. You must submit!”
“Never!” Anger shakes her body. “The gods are immortal. Why do they need my blood? I will not submit,” she growls.
“The gods need blood to be sustained. Since they have no blood of their own, we must offer them ours. You foolish girl. You know this! Every child knows this. You must die, to save us all.”
He raises the obsidian blade high above his head. Her chest heaves in strangled gasps and pleas for mercy.
“No!” she screams relentlessly, her eyes wide with terror. “I will do anything you want. Anything. Please, don’t kill me. I’ll do anything. I don’t want to die,” she sobs helplessly. Tied to a stone altar, she begs for her life. “I’ll do anything.”
The priest’s blade falters, still held high above his head. Slowly his hands fall back to his sides. Eyes glazing over, he lifts his face to the sky. Perfectly still, he listens. Even Kivera cannot help reducing her mewling and begging to a quiet stare of amazement.
Finally, his face slackens. Eyes focus once more. The oily black blade twitches in his hand. A painful smile creases his features.
He lowers the wooden mask from his face. The high priest’s skin is smooth and unblemished. Younger than any other high priest in remembered history, he is revered by all of his fellows, and many believe that he has risen higher than any other in his standing with the gods. His next words confirm those beliefs.
“Tlaloc has spoken to me. He will not accept an unwilling sacrifice.”
The bound woman gasps, but a vicious snarl quells her relief instantly.
“Tlaloc will accept the Eunuchs,” he gestures to her guards, “as sacrifices this day, if you are willing to give up all of your daughters to Tlaloc on the last year of their childhood. If you do this, Tlaloc will allow you to live through this day.”
Kivera’s hesitates only a second. “Yes, yes I will do this. I will give my daughters to Tlaloc if he will only let me live. I will do it,” she cries, relief flooding her soul.
Her bindings are cut from her hands and the covenants are made. Her tear streaked face lifts upward to the heavens in pure exalted joy. The sun shines on her face, burning her eyes. She blinks only once.
***
I open my eyes. The room is dark, a shock after the bright Aztec sun. My eyes burn with unshed tears. I press myself against Tanner’s still sleeping form and know I am facing the end. “No,” I whisper as I cry, “please, no.”