Sky Knife by Marella Sands

area for the trees, grabbing the ankles of anyone unlucky enough to come across them.
    The entrance was dark. Sky Knife took a deep breath, clenched his fists, then plunged inside. The moment he stepped inside, he was in darkness, as if no light from the outside could pass the entrance.
    â€œDeath Smoke?” he shouted. “Stone Jaguar?”
    â€œCome on, boy,” croaked the thin voice of Death Smoke. “A few steps in the dark won’t hurt you.”
    Sky Knife stepped forward carefully. The floor here was smooth and even. On the fourth step, Sky Knife suddenly found himself in a room lit brightly with a blue sorcerous glow. Even the far reaches of the high, vaulted ceiling were filled with light.
    The room was long and narrow, stretching out to his left and right. On the walls, scenes of sacrifice painted in bright oranges and blues vied for space with lists of dates. Sky Knife caught one very imposing date: 8.2.5.14.2 7 Ik 20 Tzec—almost four hundred years before! Proof, if Sky Knife had needed any, of how ancient this structure was. It had to be haunted. Sky Knife resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. He could almost imagine skeletal fingers reaching for his throat.
    Death Smoke, Stone Jaguar, and the other attendant sat in the center of the room around a large clay bowl filled with water.
    â€œCome, come,” said Death Smoke. “Sit.” He gestured to a place in between himself and Stone Jaguar.
    Sky Knife sat.
    â€œWe are four. The circle is complete,” said Death Smoke. His fetid breath hung around Sky Knife. Sky Knife shivered and tried not to breathe deeply.
    Sky Knife looked across the circle to the other attendant. The man’s eyes were wide and sweat rolled off his face. Sky Knife made an effort to sit up straighter. He would not give in to such fear.
    Stone Jaguar drew a cigar out of a pouch in his lap. He held it over the water.
    â€œItzamna, Lord of All,” said Death Smoke. “Give us light.”
    One end of the cigar began to smoulder. Stone Jaguar waved the cigar over the water four times, then put the cigar to his mouth and inhaled deeply. He blew out the smoke slowly.
    Stone Jaguar passed the cigar to the other attendant, who also put it to his lips once. He blew out the smoke in a quick, jerky breath.
    Death Smoke took the cigar and puffed. A smile spread across his face as he handed the cigar to Sky Knife.
    Sky Knife’s eyes watered as he inhaled the essence of the tobacco. The cigar tasted spicier, and danker, than any tobacco he could remember smoking before. The hot smoke filled his lungs. Sky Knife blew out the smoke, and it joined the rest of the sweet-smelling fumes that hung about the heads of the four men. He gave the cigar back to Stone Jaguar, who dropped it into the water.
    Death Smoke laughed, startling Sky Knife. “The tobacco gods are pleased,” said Death Smoke. Sky Knife looked in the water. The cigar had sunk to the bottom, yet continued to burn and smoke. The surface of the water churned as the smoke moved within it.
    â€œWe have lost two of our brethren in the past day,” said Stone Jaguar. “And the law of Itzamna is that four priests must always be in the temple.”
    â€œThe voice of the copal, and the voice of the waters, is clear,” said Death Smoke. “We shall lose another priest before this month is out.”
    â€œWhat?” asked Sky Knife. “Who?”
    â€œSuch bad luck is unprecedented,” said Stone Jaguar. “Death Smoke has seen his own death in the copal embers. We must act quickly to replace our fallen brothers before yet another is lost to us. The two of you will serve for now, Itzamna willing.”
    â€œBut, what of the others?” asked Sky Knife. There were always junior priests and senior attendants in the temple. Surely young men, without rank or tattoos, could not be considered as potential priests.
    â€œYou will serve, Sky Knife, because the gods