The snake twisted and turned its way deeper into the bowels of the temple, the scratching of its scales echoed through the darkness as it pressed its great muscles against the tunnel sides forcing itself onwards. A rat screamed in terror as the reptile bore down upon it, it turned and ran. The tunnel sloped upwards, it was slimy but a million scales gripped the tiniest imperfections, without pausing the rat was caught and swallowed.
"That feller can't have had his breakfast," said Paddy making a joke of the horror, "yer okay, just watch where the thing goes," he encouraged.
The head of the snake emerged from a hole set low into the wall of another chamber. A solitary firebrand broke the pitch darkness as the snake's tongue flicked along carvings on the walls to a sacred spot where it coiled itself up and waited. Slowly each skull was drawn along the stomach back towards the head, where by distending its lower jaw the snake was able to spit out the shining crystals. The Shaman waited for his body to regain its human form.
"The elders come as you have ordered Shaman," rasped one of the skulls.
AOne of the elders is not true to our ways,@ rasped another.
"Go outside lad and follow them in, the more we know about this hell-hole the better. I've got a feelin' that sooner than later we're goin' to need to know an awful lot about what's goin' on 'ere."
Fire from burning torches lit their way as the elders made their way deeper into the depths of the temple. The fear could be seen distorting their features as they moved along from one dark narrow passageway to another. Filthy blood-stained walls stretched away into the blackness, the flaring lights revealed bones from victims scattered upon the stone floors. Long shadows made everything seem unreal.
As if from nowhere a jaguar warrior appeared, on his arms and legs he wore snake-skins.
"Why have you come to this place?" he demanded.
A grey-bearded elder who wore the feathers of the condor spoke for the group, "The Shaman has summoned us as a matter of urgency."
The warrior motioned with a wave of his club for the elders to follow. Without effort he moved swiftly away.
"Keep up with him!" whispered one of the elders, "or else we may never see daylight again!"
Down corridors and passageways they followed, trotting to keep up with the warrior. Sometimes he moved ahead of their lights but although he carried none he was able to find his way without hesitation. Finally he stopped along a long stretch of corridor which had blazing brands fixed to its walls casting their eerie light along its length. He asked the ritual questions;
"Do you come as friends to this place?"
The grey-bearded elder answered, "We are friends."
"Do you know the secret ways?"
"Our fathers knew of them," said the elder.
"Then enter.@ He pushed against the wall. A section swung smoothly open to reveal a very narrow passageway. The warrior signalled the men to go in. Quietly they filed into the gloom. At the end of the passageway the open mouth of a stone snake gaped at them. Its fangs were carved from stone and hung so low they formed bars to the opening. Into this the elders crawled.
Into the chamber of the snake.
The fingers of firelight played out until they showed the Shaman. He sat swaying slightly, deep in trance. Before him he held a highly polished dark stone. The stone had been cut and polished to give a large flat surface, onto this he breathed until the surface condensed, misting the stone with his foul breath. He concentrated his gaze into the mist.
The elders were terrified, one of them whispered, "Did you speak?" but nobody answered.
The walls were lined with ancient writings, seven niches contained seven skulls, but the elders attention was solely upon the Shaman whose whole being was focused upon the dark stone.
"Tezcatlipoca," said the Shaman harshly, breathing softly. Within the smoking mirror something stirred. Mists swirled, parted and closed then began to shape themselves into an image; two children were seen, the elders saw one of them cause a runner to fall to his death. The man fell down a cliff face, his look of terror was imprinted on the stones surface.
"They are the children of Lord Axa," whispered the elders.
The Shaman's bark caused the elders to jump with fright, "I want these children. They are evil and must pay the price for the runner's life!"
The mirror had not finished displaying its insights into what must be. Images rushed across its black surface as if time was passing in a blur of movement. The eldest child became the only image but she was growing older, after but a few moments she was no longer a child but a young woman. She wore the strangest of clothes, long white clothes which swept upon the ground as she walked, strange footwear with pointed heels which made her walk taller, her neck was adorned with jewellery and her long black flowing hair was fastened with gold clasps.
"She is beautiful," whispered one of the elders almost to himself.
"It's her! That's the ghost! The White Lady," exclaimed Davey.
"Watch closely lad, we might find out something 'ere."
Her image became clearer but it was so strange, the body was transparent.
"It is a ghost, the ghost of the girl," whispered one of the elders into the ear of another.
They watched the spirit slowly dissolving into the mists.
The Shaman returned the stone to a deep groove set into the floor from where it leant against a wall. The elders began to leave, jostling each other in their hurry to escape.
"Wait!" hissed the Shaman, a forked tongue betrayed his former change.
Another image was being formed. The image was a man. The body of a man. Gradually the mists cleared away until a naked upper body emerged - it was unlike anything the elders had ever seen; the head was shaven white skin, the face was ferocious, but it was the tattoos imprinted upon the man's body which brought gasps of astonishment. A dragon, lizard and sea-monster fought with a roaring tiger who protected mermaids upon the man's chest. His stomach was covered with two tusked elephants ramming their heads together, they formed the stand for a huge set of scales which extended up the centreline of the body to the balance-arm which crossed from shoulder to shoulder, ending in chains which ran down each arm to the man's hands.
ANow they're what yer call tatts.@ Paddy looked ruefully at the fading lady wrapped round an anchor on his own forearm.
"Look!" whispered one of them, in fear and excitement. The others hushed him into silence.
The Shaman bent forwards and breathed softly over the stone. The surface misted over slightly then quickly unclouded to show the complete body of the man. Peering out, the man seemed to know he was being watched. He could not tell from where but twisted round, looking all about him, his mouth opened wide as his face contorted with the effort of shouting, "I seek thee Shaman! Feel my rage!" he screamed. He was encased in stone. Stone surrounded him so tightly he could barely move yet his fury was such that the Shaman stepped back. The man's head rose from out of the mirror. Hunger had forced his features back so far that his eyes seemed to protrude from their deep sockets, they looked around, they saw the elders, they saw the Shaman. The body of the man followed. It rose in jerky movements pulling itself clear of the stone. He raised his hands seeking to take hold of the Shaman but his hands lacked all solidity.
A skull cried out terrifying the elders so that they were scarcely able to breathe, AHe carries signs! Beware!@
On each palm of the man's hands where the chains ended, was a symbol; one depicted two interlocking triangles, the other was a circle shaded with a curious motif.
Opposite page to show an illustration of the man v the Shaman, the man's hands would be shown with
Although the man was unable to take hold of the Shaman he held his hands around the area of the Shaman's throat, slowly forcing him to the floor. The Shaman could not shake off whatever it was that held him.
AThe signs are upon him!@ came a harsh shout.
The elders could sense that the Shaman grew weaker with each passing moment. Never could th
ey have imagined that any creature, of dark or light, could defeat him.
An evil voice rasped from out of the darkness. "We must act now. The Shaman's task is not complete, he is needed!"
One of the elders felt something touch his shoulder, in his fright he dropped the flaming brand he carried, it rolled towards the strange but deadly combat before them. The flare from its light gave the Shaman's eyes something to focus upon. He snapped out of his deep trance-like state and lay exhausted upon the floor. The phantom raged at the Shaman but the link which held it to him was broken. It slowly disappeared, swallowed up by the stone which entombed it.
The elders rushed out of the chamber.
"Who the hell was that? He's my kind of boyo whoever 'e is. Anyone who can tackle that fiend is alright by me!"
Safely back in the light, the elders walked a long way from the temple before they dared to speak of what had happened. The grey-bearded man spoke, "We must swear by Inti not to pass on what we have seen today. Some have already begun to question the old ways. Should the people know of this trouble might result."
They stared up into the full blaze of the sun.
"So may it be," they swore, nobody noticed that no sound came from the lips of one of the men.
The grey-bearded man said, "We have witnessed the children of Lord Axa cause the death of the runner, send out the guards, arrest them!"
The Shaman lay still, staring into the stone. His evil eyes burnt into its depths, the image of a boy, wearing the helmet, fixed itself for an instant. He lifted his head from the floor and stared hard. His face filled the mirror as his eyes stared around the bedroom.
Davey screamed in terror and pushed the helmet off his head.
"Don't panic lad! I'm 'ere," said Paddy..
"What's happening! Paddy are you alright!" screeched Mrs Murtagh woken from a dream in which her son's gas mask was slowly slipping from his face and he was screaming for air. They heard her bed creaking as she jumped up.
"Get yer 'ead down!" whispered Paddy as he stood slowly up. Davey lay down on the heavy blankets which had been laid out on the floor to serve as his mattress.
"The 'elmet!" warned Paddy just as Mrs Murtagh burst through the door Davey pushed it under the bed.
"Just goin' the lav" said Paddy, "what yer shouting about now?"
"Sorry son," said Mrs Murtagh looking round the room but was satisfied when she saw Davey apparently asleep, she whispered, "had a bad dream, that cheese you know, doesn't agree with me workings."
Neither Paddy or Davey dared to risk alarming Mrs Murtagh by making any more sounds, they lay still, thinking over the sights they had witnessed. Sleep got the better of Davey, even when Mrs Murtagh rose and busied herself about the house and called up the stairs, ANeed anything Paddy,@ before setting off to the corner shop he did not waken.
Sat in his armchair Hugh watched Mrs Murtagh leave the house then called to his wife, "Liz I won't be long, just going to see how Davey got on last night."
"Tell him his breakfast is ready," she called from the kitchen. Hugh walked over and let himself in. Paddy had watched his progress across the road and called down the stairs, "Up 'ere Hughie!"
The shout wakened Davey who sat up with a bewildered look upon his face as the memories of the night came flooding back to him.
"'ave we got news for you Hughie boy!" said Paddy.
"What's been happening?" asked Hugh.
Davey looked at Paddy.
"Do you want to tell 'im or should I?" said Paddy.
Davey managed to splutter, "Y-you."
"Yer lad 'ere's got some imagination Hughie, 'e's spent half the night telling me tales of ghosts, dragons and I tell yer what," he winked at Hugh, "'e's got an eye for the ladies, beautiful women here, there and everywhere! Eh Davey!"
Davey just grinned, uncertain what to say as Hugh studied him closely.
"I tell yer what Hughie if I'd a silver tongue like yer lad there's no way I'd still be a bachelor boy, that lad 'ud talk the fur off a bear."
"That right Davey?" joked Hugh.
Davey laughed nervously.
"Get yerself home lad, your mum's got your breakfast ready for yer," said Hugh. As soon as Davey had left the room Hugh questioned Paddy more closely. "You sure everything was alright with him?"
"Yer worrying yerself over nothing Hughie, that lad's no closer to losing his slates than old Nick is to losing his."
"But he's already lost his!" laughed Hugh.
"Exactly! that's what I'm telling yer, how can he lose them if they're already lost?"
"I don't know Paddy, you'll do me head in one of these days," said Hugh, "you've done a good job me old mate." He slapped Paddy lightly on his upper arm. As Hugh left he asked, "do you still want him to come round again or have you had enough?"
"Tell the lad he's always welcome 'ere Hughie. You know that, what else is there these days?"
"Chin up old feller," said Hugh, he smiled weakly as Paddy slumped back into his nest and lay staring blankly at the ceiling.