THE BAT-GOD’S HOUSE

We found the yellowed bones of the Camazotz the next morning.

All of us had spent a restless night, Professor Bella demanding Catherwood draw the murals in his sketchbook by lantern light, then brooding over them as the rest of us fell into an uneasy doze.

Now, I was wearing an old pair of my grandfather’s khakis and leather sandals, standing with the rest of our group at the rear of the column heading down the stairs into the sinkhole. I had argued to leave Rainbow and my grandfather behind, but Professor Bella had insisted they come as her, ‘safeguard against treachery’, she told me in a voice allowing no rebuttal.

Only Dame Kerry remained behind, to meet the airship Professor Bella had messaged before we awoke. “This isn’t fair,” she grumbled as the automaton started down the stairs with the Gatling gun cradled in its arms. “I should be going along.”

“Ja,” Rune replied, “and when something nasty pops out of a hole down there, how are you going to fight it on one foot?” Dame Kerry opened her mouth as he said, “I saw you favoring that leg this morning and so did Bella, don’t ya know.”

“Fine.” I had expected more of a fight; instead, she eased herself down on the lintel and waved her hand towards the sinkhole. “Go down and rut around in the dirt and Zotz shite.” She stabbed a finger at his face. “Just don’t let them cheat us out of our gold.”

“Ya, you betcha.” Rune bent down and kissed Dame Kerry’s forehead, who pretended to bat his hand away as he smiled.

He turned and went down the stairs right behind Professor Bella, and I began to follow until Dame Kerry stopped me with a word. “Jonathan Goldspear, you know which of the two items is the only one that’s valuable. Return the locket to the little shagtail and in six months she won’t even remember who you were.” Troubled by her words, I did not answer but continued down the steep stone stairs.

I caught up to my grandfather, who was between Mr. Stephens and Catherwood, as they negotiated their way over and around the bones. “Sir, will you be able to maneuver around this?”

“Getting down is the easy part.” He glanced over his shoulder and sighed. “I only hope we are not fleeing from something else when we return.”

Rune, who was walking ahead, stopped long enough for us to catch up. “If anything even pokes its head up, the Republic-men will start blasting away at it. They’re on a hair-trigger, Ja.” He grinned. “And if that doesn’t work, you can ride on my back up the stairs.”

My grandfather drew himself up. “That would be undignified.”

“Ja,” Rune answered cheerfully, “it would. Better that, than…” He closed his hands together like a heart, then split them apart, as if the heart just burst.

“Shabaka,” Mr. Stephens said, “he has a point. Besides, if I leave it out of the account, who will know?”

“I would,” my grandfather answered with quiet dignity.

“Jonathan,” Professor Bella called out, “come join me on ze ledge.” I shared a troubled look with my grandfather before picking up my pace.

Midway down, the stairs ended on a landing a couple of yards wide before beginning again until they reached the bottom. Professor Bella had moved a short distance along it and, reaching the ledge, I walked up to her as the rest of the party continued on down the stairs. I turned and looked out over the area.

The great cenote on our right side shimmered with a blue-green hue on its surface, holding a malevolent darkness deeper down. Stairs had been cut into the side, with a small platform of white stone jutting out just above the water, and I remembered Mr. Stephens’ stories about sacrifices being thrown into certain cenotes after the heart of the victim had been cut from their chests.

In the middle of the sinkhole was a platform, also of white stone, with stairs leading up to an altar stained dark red in the center, and along the side that I could see. To the far left, the rounded walls were honeycombed with hundreds of dark openings, while across the sinkhole on the far side, the temple of Zotz-Na, built into the rock wall behind it, gleamed white in the morning sun.

The outside of the structure had been carved in bat-like shapes and strange glyphs, while the entrance resembled a gigantic bat skull, with hollow eyes and an open mouth. The opening looked as high as the archway in the building behind us.

“Quite a view,” Professor Bella said. I nodded, and she gazed at me with a thoughtful expression. “Jonathan, you do realize that, regardless of what you place upon ze statue of ze Camazotz, it means nothing?”

“But-”

“Nothing,” she repeated. “I admit, what happened last night shook me, yet there is a rational explanation for those jaguar creatures and what they did. On reflection, I believe Rose was correct: ze monstrous jaguar was an illusion meant to frighten us.”

“Does anything frighten you anymore?”

“Fear is for ze living… though ze old witch did tell me she could give me my life back,” Professor Bella added in an amused voice, “were I willing to pay ze price.” Her voice turned sharp. “As for you, your path has already been chosen. Once we travel to Copenhagen and you meet our leader, face to face, he will explain the wisdom of ze path we take.

“Ze world is changing,” she went on, her voice softening as she looked over the open area. “Koncava and their human disciples have minds of metal and goblin gas, who will destroy our dreaming ruins and ancient mysteries, replacing them with towers of steel and glass. They will build automatons and worse, to serve and fight for them as well.”

She motioned down at the automaton that had reached the bottom and now stood at attention, waiting for further orders. “I cannot touch Aethyr anymore, so I have no fear of their machines of brass. Yet, I do not wish ze world to look like that thing.” Her eyes met mine. “Humans have dominated ze world for far too long. Ze time has come for Eldarions to regain the ze thrones they have lost.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “And killing the Camazotz helps you do that?”

She waved a hand as her expression became annoyed. “I do not question why it had to be done, only that it was done and now I have ze bones to prove it. Going back to ze gift of gold, even if you place ze locket of Ambassador Bannon’s half-breed daughter on ze statue, all you will do is make Kerry sad.”

“Angry is more like it.”

“Where do you think her anger comes from? All her life, her race has scorned her as a pariah, a mistake that should be erased.” I had not thought of that, and it troubled me as Professor Bella went on. “Regardless of what you do, Kerry will remain obsessed with you and, for better or for worse, will be a part of your life until one of you dies.” She chuckled. “Knowing her tenacity, maybe not even then.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“So you are saying I should just place Dame Kerry’s ringlet on the statue and accept that what you have done so far is just?”

“I am saying it will make your life easier. However, ze choice is yours.” Professor Bella motioned towards the stairs. “Shall we?” Without waiting for a reply, she walked to the steps and began to descend. After a moment, I followed.

Professor Bella took the lead. She passed by the stained altar with only a cursory look at row after row of scarily realistic skulls, carved into the white stone sides, before pressing on towards the temple. The closer we walked along the uneven paving stones, the more detail on the temple jumped out at us. Along with giant bats, there were monkeys writing into books, a man-rat dressed in ceremonial garb, warriors with a round shield and spear, and many, many more. At the corners were large serpents with the head and upper body of a man coming out of the open mouth.

The group reached the opening to the giant bat’s mouth and stopped, milling around as we peered into the pitch darkness within. Even Professor Bella seemed affected. “Ran-Li, can you send up a couple of light globes so we can see?”

Ran-Li gave her a sardonic smile. “As wish.” She must have been expecting the request, for she put her gnarled hands together as she spoke a few words, the blue webbing forming a ball of glowing light between them. She sent it aloft and created another, and then a third, taking deep breaths as she wiped sweat from her brow.

Rainbow held my hand as we watched them ascend, and we gasped in unison as the soft blue light began to reveal the secrets held inside. The building was a facade over an enormous cavern stretching off into darkness, the ceiling above lost in shadow. However, the rock walls to either side were visible, thankfully without any of the cave holes piercing the walls outside, while directly in front of us stood another stone platform like the first, only with stone bat heads instead of skulls.

Beyond it stood a roughly fifteen foot tall statue of the Camazotz, standing upright with a leaf bladed staff in one hand and the other outstretched with its palm up. All of this I only noted in passing. For an army waited for us with their weapons drawn.

Swirling around the platform was a battle where time had stopped. Hundreds of warriors, wearing pieces of archaic metal armor gleaming silver, or gold, or the dark red color of blood, were locked in a moment of mortal combat. Their weapons were strange, the fighters wielding curved swords of grey metal, double bladed axes with each end curving inward and coming to a sharp, wicked looking point, or spears with thin, wavy blades on one end and grey metal spikes like miniature obelisks on the other.

Their armor had gauntlets with flaring cuffs, chest plates covering the abdomen but nothing else, while others had armor protecting the entire torso. All of them wore helms made of metallic strips flowing down past the throat and leaving the face exposed.

Pale faces carved from stone looked out from those helms. Three warriors, each wearing a different color armor, were close enough to see details, and each warrior seemed to be of a different race than the other two, though none of them were like any race now inhabiting the earth. The silver armored fighter was the most human looking of the three, though his forehead had strange ridges and his eyes were slanted down. The red armored warrior had a face almost bestial, his body heavier than the other two, while the third was of a race with delicate features and large eyes.

Each race seemed determined to kill the members of the other two. The axe of the bestial warrior was buried into the neck and shoulder of a warrior in gold holding a wavy bladed spear, the delicate features locked in a rictus of surprise and pain, while the silver armored fighter was in the middle of swinging his sword two-handed at the red armored warrior’s unprotected back. Beside me, Rainbow said, “Grandmother, what is this? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Ran-Li, striding through the frozen battle towards the platform, paused and turned around. “History of races. Fathers of people many, many, Bak’tuns ago.”

“But what happened to them?” Mr. Stephens looked from the statues to Ran-Li. “What was their history, where were their cities? Who were their kings?” His eyes grew wide as saucers. “Ye gods, were they the ancestors of us?”

The old Eldarion shrugged. “No one know truth except Ancient Ones. All cities gone, all stelae, all records. Only statues remain.” She turned forward again and called out over her shoulder, “Black Lion, join me on platform.”

I did so, accompanied by Rainbow and my grandfather as we weaved our way between the statues. Professor Bella asked, “What about ze treasure?”. In response, Ran-Li pointed at one of the glowing spheres and moved it a few yards deeper into the cavern.

At the edge of the darkness came the gleam of gold. Behind me, Professor Bella barked orders and Terramagica lanterns began coming to life as Catherwood said, “Have your men keep those lanterns away from me. I am setting up the Camera Obscura to get this down on parchment.”

As Mr. Stephens opened the tripod while Catherwood performed the Artifact item’s invocation, a team of Professor Bella’s men gave them a wide berth as they moved carefully through the swirl of warrior statues towards the gold. Professor Bella ordered the automaton to follow her as she started towards us. “Ran-Li, I want the Gatling gun set up on the platform to give the automaton its best firing position in case we are attacked.”

As they began threading their way through the statues, Ran-Li said, “Will metal man shoot at ghosts?”

“There are no such things. Even if there were, automatons only fire at physical objects they recognize as enemies or that exhibit threatening behaviors.”

Ran-Li’s face grew sly. “Then go ahead.” As the three of us started up the stairs, my grandfather’s hand on my shoulder and Rainbow’s hand in mine, she said, “Kinubal, Old Lion, sit on steps after Bella and metal man on platform. Black Lion,” and she motioned for me to join her.

The stairs were wide enough for the automaton to pass the other two, and with a final squeeze on my shoulder and my hand, they both stopped and let me walk up the last few steps to the top. The white stone platform was empty save for Ran-Li and a conch shell sitting in the exact middle. I frowned as I looked at Ran-Li. “What is that?”

“Horn begins ceremony. Shaman and king stand together, shaman blow, summon spirit. Ritual begin.”

The fear I had been tamping down flared up again. “Spirit? Ran-Li, I do not think-”

She put a hand like a withered tree root on my shoulder. “What must be, must be. Give trust,” her dark eyes meeting mine, “and trust not betrayed.”

I took a deep breath. “Alright,” I said as Professor Bella stepped onto the platform and began directing the automaton to set up at the far end of the platform, “I will trust you. However,” I added, glancing down at the old khakis I was wearing, “I feel I am not dressed for the part.”

Ran-Li only gave another derisive snort and strode forward to the center of the platform. I came up beside her as she picked up the conch shell, and looked back at the others. “Catherwood, you ready?”

“Give me a moment,” he called back. A blue flash came from the Camera Obscura, and a few seconds later he held up a piece of parchment with a drawn image, replacing the parchment with a fresh one. “Now, I am ready.”

“As am I,” Professor Bella said. The automaton was scanning back and forth with its hands on the Gatling gun, the others loading an ammunition belt from the metal box resting on the stone surface beside it, as she added, “Begin this ritual of yours so we might gather up ze gold and leave this cursed place.”

“As wish.” Ran-Li held the conch shell to her lips and blew. A haunting blast came from the instrument, like an ancient war horn of the Wild Hunt calling across the mountains. All of us, including the men grabbing golden vessels and statues from the ordered rows they had been placed in and shoving them in bags, stopped what they were doing and went still as the sound echoed off the cavern walls.

Ran-Li waited until the echoes died and blew again. Then a third time, and as the echoes faded, the silence grew, until it seemed no one dared break it as the darkness beyond the blue globes and the greenish lantern light, swirled like smoke.

A black shape padded into the light. A hunting cat, I realized, but not a jaguar like before. The black shape was a lion, greater and more majestic than any adult male I had ever seen, with a thick, wild mane of hair, powerful, well defined muscles, and a long tail held high. Everyone except Ran-Li seemed to be in shock as it trod up the far set of stairs and reached the platform, the automaton ignoring the creature as if the lion did not exist as the brass head continued scanning back and forth. The creature stopped a few feet away from me, and with a shock I knew what it was. Ran-Li had called the manifestation of the ancient guardian spirit of the Nubian kings.

Ran-Li had called the spirit of Apedemak.

Who were the strange races depicted by the statues locked in mortal combat? While the drawing Catherwood made of them has been lost, recreations have been published, based on the oral histories of the expedition. Scholars argue, and most people of all races believe, that these statues were an artist’s fanciful reproduction of an ancient myth and not true representations of any real race.

That I choose to believe otherwise is an opinion I generally keep to myself.