CHAPTER 11
The Flight of the Shaman
Within the depths of the temples numerous passageways and chambers was the vilest cell. Large blocks of stonework protruded into the cell dividing it up into smaller sections, on top of the stone blocks sat seven crystal skulls carved in grotesque likeness of human form. The light from flaming torches could not penetrate the dark recesses formed by the blocks.
"There's something in there," whispered Davey afraid to talk any louder.
A hideous creature skulked around.
"No animal could survive in 'ere, it's either a man or a monster. Listen lad, you sure you want to keep watching this, it's getting a bit scary ain't it?"
Davey's answer was to move slightly forward and take their view into the cell.
The evil intelligence displayed in the creatures eyes pierced through the repulsive air, it seemed alone but voices, harsh rasping voices could be heard.
"Who's doin' the talkin'? Them flamin' bombs >ave wrecked me hearing.@
"It's them skulls, they're saying things!" said Davey in astonishment.
No part of the carved crystal moved but the voices came directly from them. The voices were as evil as their surroundings. The very air was rotten, tainted with the stench of decaying flesh.
"Don't look lad, this place is a flamin' slaughter-house," said Paddy shielding Davey from seeing what littered the floor. "There it is, over there in the corner!" he said directing Davey's gaze towards the creature but somehow managing to hide the fearful sights from him, "This ain't real! I don't believe what I'm seeing this thing's a flippin' demon. What the hell is it eatin'!"
It spat a lump of gristle from between its jagged teeth.
From one of the skulls a fierce voice spoke, "It is well Shaman. The souls of the victims of the sacrifice have increased our power to its strongest. Go forth and assist the Gods. We appointed you as our successor, you are to be the fortunate one who will sit on the right hand of the Gods themselves. Our power will soon hold sway over the Earth."
Naked and covered in gore the Shaman rolled in the filth upon the floor. Thick ash from the sputtering fire baked itself onto the damp patches upon his body. It was like watching an animal wallowing in the blood from the kill. But this was not nature, it was pure evil. The scene from Hell was made worse by the look of sinister purpose in the Shaman's eyes.
Another, more evil sounding voice spoke out of the stinking air. "We are seven you are to be the eighth. Now make ready, we see danger unless you act swiftly."
Caked in filth the Shaman crossed to a low bench upon which were the tools of his disgusting craft; a beautifully ugly obsidian knife with jewelled hilt, a turquoise mask covered in a mosaic of precious stones; an ornate snake made from turquoise. Vicious hooks and pointed stakes littered the bench, amongst them was a helmet.
"It's a helmet, like this one!" said Paddy. In his surprise he had forgotten to hide the sights from Davey who now sat watching every action.
The skulls intoned sacred chants as the Shaman placed the helmet upon his head.
"We have tired the child, all awaits you, you must not fail," sang one of the skulls.
"Go now, seek the Gods, assist their holy slaughter," said another as the Shaman's hooked fingers picked up the knife.
"Look, the helmet's even got them holes in the back of it!" exclaimed Davey as the Shaman turned away from them.
"Check out the walls lad! There's something on 'em," said Paddy.
In the dim light carvings of strange figures could be seen. Some of the figures wore helmets, some carried large backpacks from which tubes connected to the helmets. People were shown bowing down low in reverence to the wearers.
As if to a secret signal which they had not noticed, an assistant entered the cell. In each fist he held a snake, bands of orange and white along their length indicated the reptiles venomous quality. The assistant's hands were clamped close behind the head of the thin snakes as they writhed and whipped and sought to free themselves. By the time he had reached the Shaman their lower jaws had dropped away revealing poison fangs which dripped pure globules of death as they tried to twist their heads back and pump their venom into the assistant.
In a harsh, guttural voice the Shaman called upon the Gods, "Many have been slain in your honour and in thanks to your return. My ancestors waited for you over the distant past as I have awaited you. Now the prophecy is fulfilled, you have travelled from the stars to return to us, it is my duty to prepare the way for you. The Earth shall be ours!"
Raising his arms above his head he stepped towards the assistant who pushed the heads of the snakes against his chest. The fangs embedded themselves, the heads quivered slightly as the sacs of poison emptied their deadly loads. From all around came a humming sound as the skulls altered their chant. The sound rose and fell, throbbing and pulsing in its intensity, growing louder as the Shaman began to feel the effects of the poison. A loud screech began to be heard amongst the background of the chant; almost immediately the Shaman went into a seizure, his body jerked downwards from the waist and his legs shot out from under him so that he smashed onto the floor.
"He's done 'imself in!" said Paddy.
The Shaman writhed around in agony, white foam began frothing from his mouth and his eyes rolled back so far that only the whites could be seen. Suddenly he lay perfectly still. The assistant waited for the reptiles to release themselves, they lay by the side of the Shaman exhausted by their actions, he collected them then left the Shaman to his fate.
"Is he dead Uncle Paddy?"
Paddy was about to reply but they witnessed something terrifyingly amazing happening, the body of the Shaman remained where it was but from out of it rose a see-through version of the body.
"It's his ghost!" said Davey.
The spectre rose to a sitting position then stood up.
"Go now assist the holy slaughter," chanted the skulls.
The spectre disappeared.
"Follow it lad, he's not dead, that must be what got the girl."
"I can't follow it if I can't see it," said Davey, "it's gone."
"Do like yer did when yer looked in the temple, remember, yer said that you were just thinking it then next thing we was in there!"
Davey tried but they did not leave the confines of the cell.
"Maybe yer trying too hard lad, relax a bit....That's it. There he is!"
Sweeping through the ether high above the earth the Shaman flew; watching, looking down upon the Gods, discovering how he might best help them in their return. Some of the Gods had changed themselves into magical animals; strong, as fast as the wind, able to fly across the land as they carried the Gods onwards. That the people needed cleansing there was no doubt - had he not asked the Emperor many times, but always in vain to allow him to do this. The Gods were infinite in their wisdom. They cleansed with fire, a wide sweep of the land over which they travelled was burnt, blackened and laid waste. The people were mown down like reeds. In his mind's eye he saw a runner using a roadway that was normally never used, "Fools! How can you ever hope to understand!" he cried.
The runner would not stop for anything, the speed he swept across the ground indicated the urgency with which he was intent upon delivering his message. The people must not oppose fate. The Gods were acting upon Earth, nothing must stand in their way.
Swooping through the ether like a great bird of prey he swept down lower above the Gods. The prophecy was correct! They wore the helmets of power, even their skins were made of the same strange substance. He watched a peasant try to escape their wrath. A God pointed a magic stick at her, with a burst of fire and voice of thunder the peasant was smashed into the dust.
Such fury! Such power!
"It is time! It is high time!" shouted the Shaman into the ether, AAll will be mine!@
He swept onwards over a great valley, above a great river to northwards to intercept the runner.
Unable to act in the physical sense of the word he could but observe the wor
ld and its inhabitants and yet the runner must be stopped.
But wait! What was that further along the roadway? Destiny had decreed it, children were playing, the runner would not expect them to be there.
One child sat playing her pipes, she would see the runner from where she sat and would be able to warn her friend to move from his path.
The Shaman began willing himself to materialise, he could plainly hear the notes from her pipes which surrounded him with their irritating noise. It must be! He must show himself to this child if this accursed runner was to be stopped from interfering with the plans of the Gods.
The runner was almost upon them! The child saw him, realised the danger and began to warn her friend.
A last chance. As the child turned away towards its friend she saw his eyes, their snakelike look held her fast, she was gripped by them and the longer they held her the greater the grip became. He knew he had her, he knew she would not be able to tear free and warn the other child of the runners approach.
"It was 'im Davey lad, I'll have him yet you see if I don't!" said Paddy as the runner leapt into space.
Davey followed the runner down the sheer drop, Hotchas' legs still pounded away as if they would somehow strike something solid and allow him to escape, it was not to be.
The Shaman's face was an evil grimace as he drew his obsidian edged knife.
The runner's soul rose from the wreckage to seek its future destiny, in that instant the Shaman pierced it.
"That demon's killed his flippin' soul," said Paddy.
The effort of forcing himself to appear to the girl had weakened the effect of the poison. The Shaman felt his phantom self being pulled back to the body which waited to confine him within its bounds. As he retreated into the distance the children could again be seen, they were starting to melt into a smoky haze. But they were picking something up from the roadway.
"No! It cannot be!" he yelled. The quipu was found!
The pull of the body was too strong he could not fight it. The ether was becoming dim, it swirled and misted all around. He was drawn swiftly through tunnels of cloud as his phantom self drew nearer to its prison.
Soon he could see the body lying on the cell floor. It was always difficult to re-enter that useless heap of flesh and tissue, other priests had failed to do so and had remained trapped in the ether until finally the body had ceased to live. The chant of the skulls reached his ears, rising and falling, throbbing and pulsing, the sound helped him to focus on the physical world. The weird shrieks helped take him down from the heights and to re-enter the world of the living. His body rose from the floor.
"Summon the city elders!" he screamed at the assistant.
He crossed to the bench where he replaced the helmet and picked up the ornate snake. The snake was carved from deep green jade, its body was encrusted with jewels. The Shaman focused his mind on the snake. Rapidly the pupils of his eyes narrowed then stretched upwards and downwards, narrowing until they were a thin black slit, the rest of the eye began to glaze over and to alter colour until they were a dull yellow and seemed to have a hardness to them which could be touched. His body seemed to lose all its strength as it slowly crumpled to the floor, his head slumped to the ground. The body seemed to have lost the will to hold itself together as it kept on flattening, sinking and stretching. The arms were the first to be absorbed into the scaly casing which was beginning to form; the legs lengthened and combined, stretched and elongated to form a tail; his head was the last to transform, his tongue split and lengthened and began spitting out tasting the air about him.
The snake slithered across the cell floor to the skulls, raising its head it took a skull in its mouth and swallowed it, the lump of the skull could be seen being contracted along its body by the walls of muscle. All seven skulls were swallowed one by one.
"This can't be real lad," said Paddy shaking his head in astonishment, "this is taking the mickey. I thought I was starting to understand what was happening 'ere but this lot's beyond me."
Near a corner of the cell, where the wall met the floor was a hole. The hole was slightly smaller than a man's head, the snake undulated over the awful mess which littered the ground and pushed its head into the hole, its muscles rippled along its thick body as the rest of it entered, with a final flick of the tail it had gone.
"Follow it lad!"
Davey did not dare to enter. He did not dare to leave. He remained within that terrible room.
Paddy turned to him and slowly lifted the helmet from his head.
"Come on now, that all got a bit much for you there didn't it. I said meself it was beyond me. Here look outside, there's the feller putting out the lamps."
He parted the heavy net curtains which protected his weak eyes during the day, the first rays of the sun were coming up and the lampman was turning off the gas to each lamp, putting out the little flames.
It did the trick, Davey looked out and began to recover from the total fear he had experienced.
"What's it all about Uncle Paddy?" he asked, "why is it me that can see these things? What can I do to help someone who's already dead?"
"Eh calm yerself down there lad, yer letting this lot get to yer. That girl in the mirror has asked yer for help and I don't care if the devil 'imself is involved. We're going to 'elp. I see it like this lad, what's the point of all this if at the end of the day there's nowt we can do? It must all be 'appening for a reason, and that reason can only be because she needs yer help and only you can give it. Now that make sense to me, 'ow about you?"
"I see what you're getting at Uncle Paddy but it's all so terrible."
"Eh, if you think that lot's terrible it's nothing compared to what me and yer old feller 'ave seen. I'd tell yer it all now but yer dad reckons we should wait till yer older."
"Did me dad know this helmet could do these things?" asked Davey.
"Well it's like I was saying, there's folk and there's folk, some of us can get into this sort of stuff and some of us think different. Yer old feller did brave things over there lad and I tell you what, nothing but nothing scares him. If 'e were 'ere now he'd be sorting something out, you mark my words, no snakey little devil would bother 'im!"
Davey thought about what he had said then answered, "Let's carry on Uncle Paddy."
"Naw, I reckon you've 'ad just about all yer can take for today."
"I'll have to go back home soon, me mam'll be expecting me for breakfast, we can stop then. Honest Uncle Paddy I want to go on, I mean we're safe aren't we, nothing can harm us, we're just watching."
Paddy hesitated before replying. "I don't know if it's goin' to be that simple lad, I'll be straight with yer, this lot's no flippin' game, this is the real thing."
"Pass me the helmet Uncle Paddy," was Davey's answer.