But he was clearly subordinate to the other figure. Ryan had already learned enough of the color-coded regalia of the tribe to recognize that the man was a priest, a very senior priest.
His robes were black, and he wore a mask of a sable serpent’s mouth, the sharpened teeth gripping the polished head of what looked like a large rat. Between its fangs there was a smaller skull, looking disturbingly humanoid.
The priest’s own hair was long and matted with fresh blood that leaked down over his shoulders.
“You all come.”
It sounded to Ryan like a command rather than a question. “Yeah. Krysty?”
“What, lover?”
“Go get J.B. and the others. Remind them we’re all on double red.”
“Sure.” She vanished, the dark eyes of the natives turning to follow her.
“They quick,” the priest said in a harsh guttural voice. “Before sun sleeps.”
“Right. How long will this take?”
“What?”
Ryan shook his head, realizing that the priest’s grasp of the American language was very poor.
While he waited, Ryan looked at the strange robe that the native was wearing. It was some sort of fine tanned leather, fitting well over shoulders and chest, though there were strange dangling protuberances hanging from near the top of his arms and from the hips on both sides.
Hearing the sound of voices as Krysty returned with J.B., Mildred, Doc and Jak, the priest turned and stepped into the doorway, where he was starkly illuminated in the scarlet glow of the setting sun, enabling Ryan to see clearly what the bizarre robe was made from.
It was made from the flayed skin of a fully grown man.
Chapter Eighteen
“Those are the arms and legs, hanging down both sides. See the fingers and toes,” Ryan whispered.
“Gaia!”
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw it. The head’s been cut clean off. Wondered at first whether the priest was wearing that, as well, like a kind of mask.”
The woman mimed gagging. “Sickies.”
“Guess it’s their religion. Some kind of ritual that they wear the skins of their enemies. Like some of the Native Americans eating the hearts from dead enemies to sort of take their courage inside them.”
“Still makes my lungs shrink. Gives an idea of what we’re about to see.”
Doc was at their heels. “And may the Lord make us truly thankful,” he breathed.
THEY FOLLOWED THE PRIEST and his young assistant out of the main part of the village, toward the ancient pyramid that towered above the evening forest.
All the men of the village were gathered around the base of the stone mountain, the women and children ranged behind them. Ryan saw that many of the council of elders were dressed in their best ceremonial finery, with whispering beads, jeweled masks and swaying feathers.
He recognized Speaking Eagle and Smoking Crest, both wearing blue shrouds. Itzcoatl was in red, streaked with black. In the front line of the women stood Rain Flower, her eyes fixed to Jak.
Drums pounded and trumpets shrilled. The shadows were elongated, stretching from the trees while the setting sun dappled everything with crimson. Scented smoke drifted across the scene from iron braziers placed at each angle. There were several larger fires built on the flat top of the pyramid. More ghostly figures, wearing flayed human skin and sodden with blood, moved slowly from corner to corner in what seemed to be a stately dance.
“Looks like a scene from some big movie,” Mildred said quietly.
“Too grim,” Doc replied. “Oh, my dear lady, it is far too real and far too grim.”
The priest turned and scowled, holding a bony finger to his lips. “Not speak,” he snarled.
The boy led Ryan to a position of honor in the first line, alongside some of the older warriors, their scarred bodies showing the battles they’d fought. Krysty followed, the others at her heels. There was a susurration from the natives as Jak took his place, last of the friends.
All of them carried their firearms.
For a moment the large natural arena was totally still and silent.
Ryan could just make out the mirrored surface of the lake between the trees and huts, and he saw the sudden silvered splash of a fishing eagle diving into the deeps. It emerged empty-beaked, tiny drops of water tumbling from its flapping wings as it flew higher and caught the last rays of the sun.