Aztlan, the Aztec’s legendry homeland, was located beneath the mountains in these caverns.
All I had to do was find the entrance.
The Black Hawk hovered alongside Weaver’s Needle.
“Ready to do your woo-woo stuff?” Derek asked over the headphones.
“You betcha.” Spreading the map across my lap, I opened my psychic eye and reached out. An icy devouring cold touched me and nightmare images of the people being slaughtered whirled through my brain. There. The entrance to the lost cities was at Painted Rock and only a short ten minute flight away.
Could the Black Hawk land there? Of course not, so the men rappelled down and I got to ride in that swell basket again.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I crawled into the basket of death and shrieked loudly as it began twirling madly in mid-air.
The guys laughed so hard I was sure they would pee their pants. Treasure hunting was so much fun.
“You can open your eyes now, Angel, you’re on the ground.”
“Then why is everything still spinning?”
Derek pried my fingers off the basket and lifted me out. “I could always teach you how to rappel.”
I smacked his chest. “Like hell you will.”
Laughter laced his voice, “Then you’re stuck with the basket.”
“You’re a sarcastic beast.”
My husband held out my box of chocolates.
“Am I?”
Okay, maybe not. Giving him a quick kiss, I grabbed the box and sat on a convenient rock and started chowing down.
The cactus spiked hills sweltered under the unforgiving sun. What little breeze there was felt like it came straight from hell. I wiped at the sweat slithering down my face and neck.
Twenty minutes later, all the supplies were on the ground and I had eaten my way through most of the chocolate.
Derek raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You ate the entire box?”
“They were melting,” I answered, feeling a tiny bit guilty at the lie. I had stuffed the remaining candy in the pockets of my Dockers. Hey, if I was going to face Asmoday again, I needed chocolate, lots and lots of chocolate. Melted or not.
He handed me my backpack. “Lead the way.”
Shimmering mirages danced across the rocks as we hiked along the mountain top.
Unease crawled up my spine. “You sense anything, Granny?”
“Something awaits us,” her disembodied voice replied.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
Derek scanned the area. “Hostiles?”
I nodded. “It’s either the Thunder God or Asmoday. Everyone locked and loaded?”
“Yes ma’am,” they answered in unison.
Painted Rock turned out to be a large horseshoe shaped sandstone ridge covered with petroglyphs. One upraised section was stained with ancient blood. The screams of the men and women the Aztecs had sacrificed on this altar echoed through my mind. A shudder shook me. Their tortured souls were still trapped here.
My husband wrapped a comforting arm around me. “You okay?”
“I will be after I free all these souls.”
Fabian handed me Excalibur.
Since the sword was almost as tall as me and weighed about a ton, my muscle-bound cousin got to carry it. Okay, I played the girl card. Sue me.
I pointed it at the altar. “Dominus unus morsellus vindolan.”
Hundreds of glowing blue orbs streamed from the rock, whizzed around us joyfully and vanished into the sky.
The men stared in open-mouthed astonishment.
“Pretty awesome, huh?”
Hank gasped, “Those… Those were their souls?”
“Yep.”
Ed added, “How come we can see them this time?”
Granny Annabel popped in dressed like Annie Okley, complete with guns and cowboy hat. “This is a place of magic.”
A great crack of thunder shook the ground and a chaotic mass of storm clouds boiled across the sky.
“Gosh, you think the Thunder God is still pissed at me?”
A jagged fork of lightning struck the altar, sending shards of rocks flying in every direction.
I jumped about a foot. “I guess that’s a yes.”
Derek pulled Charlemagne’s sword from the sheath on his back. “We need to find that entrance.”
An ice cold wind tickled my back. I followed it over to a grotesquely twisted mesquite tree draped with a sickly yellow fungus “It’s here along with a nasty little booby trap.”
Fabian reached out a curious finger and I smacked it. “You touch that fungus and you’re dead within an hour. Anyone have a lighter?”
My hair suddenly stood straight up from my head and acting on instinct, I raised Excalibur in the nick of time. A bolt of lightning ricocheted off the sword and bam! The mesquite tree burst into flames. “Never mind.”
Slashes of incandescent green flashed angrily across the darkened sky.
“He comes,” Granny warned.
The rotting corpse of the Apache warrior lumbered clumsily towards us. A cloud of flies buzzed madly around his head.
We all took an involuntary step backwards when the stench hit us.
“Whooeee! I thought he stunk before but wow!
That’s just nasty.”
Ed turned an interesting shade of green. “Is it a zombie?”
“Who cares? Kill it,” Derek commanded and the men unleashed a hail of salt bullets.
“Tempore. Cuidamn. Monstrata. Desopsuit de cruce,” I shouted over the gunfire.
With an unearthly wail, the Apache warrior blew up, spewing putrefied flesh in every direction.
“Oh ick!” My stomach heaved and to my horror, I threw up all my wonderful chocolate.
Fabian, Ed and Hank quickly followed suit.
Derek looked at them in disgust and handed me his canteen. “Is it safe to cut the tree down?”
Rinsing my mouth out, I nodded. “Fire kills the fungus.”
With a few powerful sword strokes, Derek cut the tree down, exposing a bricked-up entrance. “A little C should take care of this.”
Lightning crackled like fiery snakes across the boiling clouds.
“Better hurry, sugar, we just slowed him down a bit.”
Setting the timer, Derek motioned us back.
I took cover behind a large boulder and thirty seconds later, there was a small boom. A cloud of dust billowed out and pieces of sandstone brick and mortar pelted us.
I took a quick peek and the breath froze in my lungs. The darkness inside the cavern was like a black thing crawling out to engulf us.
“Sugar, could you chuck one of those holy water grenades in there?”
“Yes ma’am.” Derek hurled the grenade.
BAM! Something inside shrieked in agony.
The men all looked at me.
“Nothing to worry about, probably a ghoul or a lower demon they left to guard the place.”
Hank crossed himself. “Is it dead?”
“I sure hope so.” Turning my flashlight on, I cautiously checked the narrow tunnel for booby traps.
Derek growled in my ear, “You hope so?”
“If it’s a lower level demon, it’s dead, but if it’s not, you might want to have another grenade ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I stepped cautiously into the pitch black cavern and the men quickly filed in behind me.
Granny Annabel chanted, “Carutius fornicem ripam.”
A torch flared in the darkness, then another and another and another until I could make out a vast cavern.
“Thanks Granny.” I looked around in awe.
A huge drawing of Montezuma battling a Conquistador glowed eerily on one massive wall. On the other side of the cavern was an immense sandstone cliff dwelling.
Dozens of mummified warriors lay crumpled around an arched doorway. The echoes of a long ago battle swirled through my mind and I caught a few fleeting images of their desperate fight to save their families from demons.
“Holy Mary Mother of God!”
The men closed rank around me and Derek growled, “What’s wrong?”
“It was their idiot high priest who opened the doorway to the nine hells.” I cocked my head as another image flashed into my head. “The good news is he was the first one to get eaten.”
Derek glanced around warily. “And the bad news?”
“The demons are still here.”
“Fuck,” Ed spat.
“Get this on tape, Hank, in case we have to make a run for it,” my husband instructed.
“Yes, sir.” Pulling a video camera from his pack, Hank slowly panned it round the cavern and zoomed in on the desiccated remains.
I approached the warriors cautiously. You never knew when they’d jump up and take a swing at you.
Some of the fighters petrified features peeked out from Jaguar skulls and their mummified bodies were covered in rotted panther pelts. If they weren’t already dead, it kinda made you want to sic PETA on their asses.
The others wore feathered helmets with beaks opened in a defiant scream. Each warrior had a
death grip on a round wooden shield with a few tattered feathers still attached and a carved sword.
“Funky outfits.”
My Tomb Raider bent down and examined the bodies. “The Eagles and Jaguars were the elite warrior knights of the Aztec.”
“Get out of here? Like Knights of the Round Table?”
“Somewhat but the English knights didn’t sacrifice their captives.”
“No they just pillaged and raped.” I picked up a sword and fingered the still-sharp obsidian pieces embedded in the blades’ sides. “These pitiful weapons wouldn’t do much good against demons.”
“No, but they were fierce warriors who never backed down in battle. No matter what the odds were,” my husband added with touch of respect.