Indiana Jones and the Death of the Gods- Chapters 1 & 2

Posted by IndyAntilles from spider-tm051.proxy.aol.com on January 09, 2000 at 16:06:20:

Okay, presenting Chapter One, revised, along with Chapter Two, of "Indiana Jones and the Death of the Gods". A couple minor changes to Chapter One:
1) I fixed (hopefully) all of the grammar and spelling errors (thanks to sharukin of the Star Wars Link Engine Forum for the help in finding them all);
2) In the one above, I mistakenly wrote the 1920's explorer's name as Marley, when it is actually Morley;
3) I changed the ending. Please tell me which one you like better
As for Two, I think I might have spelled some of the names wrong. Please point this out to me if this is the case. Also, I feel like something is missing in Two. What do you think?
Also, I found a website that talks about the acoustic proterties of Kukulkan. There's even a download to let you heard what the pyramid's "chirp" sounds like, in comparison to a real quetzal. If you would like to hear this neato phenomenon, point your browsers to:
www.ocasa.org/MayanPyramid.htm

Now, without further ado, we shall begin...

ì...from where the jaguar lurks, and the eagle
flies...
...and where the quetzal chirps upon the
castle...
...a gift to Ah Xoc Kin, a gift from Chac
Mool...
...by the mouth of the well of the Itza.î

-Mayan Glyph, Tikal

Chapter One

Music to my Ears

Chichen Itza, Mexico
June 10, 1942

The stark white stone of Castillo shone
beautifully in the early morning sun. The pyramid
itself stood alone on the grassy plain, though the
ball game court could be seen in the distance,
partially shrouded by the morning mists. A cluster
of ancient trees stood parallel to the pyramid,
reaching their highest bough towards the tip of
Castillo. Glints of green and red flitted within the
branches and cheerful chirps echoed across the
ruins as a flock of quetzals played among the trees.
Indiana Jones lifted his fedora slightly,
wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. The
jungle humidity made sweat pour from his brow
and his shirt cling to his skin, making him
uncomfortable. The lack of shade to shelter
himself from the blazing rays of the sun made
Jones even more irritable.
Jones turned to his guide, Isidro, behind
him.
ìThat is the Kukulkan?î he asked,
pointing to the pyramid.
ìYes, senor,î Isidro replied, adjusting his
hat to better shade his eyes from the sun. The two
mayan natives stood, unmoving, next to him. One
leaned on the five foot bow that he had carried
with him. Both were decorated with various tribal
tattoos.
Jones nodded, readjusted the fedora, then
resumed his walk. Though Jones walked loudly
through the thick underbrush, he noticed that
neither native had made a sound as they moved,
their eyes darting across the grassland, searching
for any signs of large predators.
Jones had picked them up on Isidroís
insistence, after they had left Valladolid two days
ago. Isidro had ventured to Chichen Itza before
with these two men, both from a Mayan tribe that
lived not to far from Valladolid. Though not
trusting of Jones, and reluctant to lead him to the
sacred ìmouth by the wellî, from which their
ancestors worshipped for centuries, Isidro was
known well enough among the tribe to persuade
the Mayans to accompany them-- though a large
exchange of money was most likely also a factor.
Isidro himself was a well-known and
respected guide in the Yucatan-- or so he boasted.
Jones could not find anyone within Valladolid to
confirm this ìfactî. Nick suggested him, however,
and his extensive background within the
neighboring jungle made the large sum or money
that he required a minimal drawback.
The quetzals boisterous chirping quieted
as the group approached Kukulkan. They soon
silenced completely, the glints of green and red
disappearing among the olive green of the leaves,
and the trees grew still. Isidro placed a hand on
Jonesís shoulder.
ìTheyíre watching, Dr. Jones,î Isidro
whispered, pointing to the trees.
ìWhat?î Jones whispered back.
ìThe quetzals. They are the eyes for the
gods on earth.î
Jones looked up momentarily at the tree,
but the thick foliage and sheer height of the
standing timber concealed the curious onlookers.
A slight shuffle and rustle among the branches as
a bird adjusted his footing was the only sign that
betrayed the quetzalís position.
Ignoring the bestial stares, Jones turned
back to Kukulkan. The pyramid was not unlike
those he had encountered at Tikal, nine stepped
layers, draped in moss, stretching several hundred
meters towards the heavens, the peak of the edifice
nearly touching the sky. The direct light of the sun
that lay on the horizon cut a zig-zagging shadow
across the stairway of Kukulkan, giving the
appearance of a snake slithering up-- or down--
the steps. The architecture of the steps also held
some other curious properties.
Jones clapped his hands twice.
Nearly simultaneously, Kukulkan echoed
back with two chirps, sounding uncannily like
those of the quetzals, carrying throughout the
entire city.
A clamorous disturbance began from the
trees as the flock of quetzals took flight, chirping
their replies to Kukulkan. The birds darted past
the pyramid, their own calls being mimicked by
the ancient stone. They continued their dance
across the sky as they turned toward the sun,
retreating from where Jones had begun, their calls
hushed as they dove back into the canopy of the
jungle.
Isidro chuckled.
ìYou like that, Dr. Jones? Come with
me.î Isidro motioned for Jones to follow him.
Isidro led him to an opposite corner of
Kukulkan, pausing only at the large tree to break
off two thick branches of a fallen limb. Just beyond
the shady reflection of the tree, resting against the
great pyramid, lay a small pile of rocks. Several
were crumbling or cracked, but most of the cone
shaped stones were intact.
Isidro knelt beside them, turned towards
Jones with a smile, then struck one of the stones. It
let out high pitch note. He struck another, the
stone producing a deeper sound. He then began to
carry out a melody, not unlike those Jones had
heard one the streets of Valladolid.
ìCute,î Jones replied, kneeling down
beside Isidro and taking a stone into his hands,
ìthe stones Morley spoke of when he visited here
in the 1920ís.î
ìThe Mayans have a legend that these
stones, along with Kukulkan, were gifts from the
Mayans to the sun god, Ah Xoc Kin,î Isidro
began. ìThey carved offerings to the sun god in
order to keep the sun in the sky...î
ì... much like they sacrificed tribesmen to
sacred cenote for the rain god, in order to keep the
soil moist, and the crops hardy,î Jones interrupted.
ìSi, senor. Chac Mool was to take the
offerings to Ah Xoc Kin, but before Mool made
his annual trip to the heavens, the sky fell. For
many minutes, the sun was gone from the heavens,
and the stars died. This was seen as a sign to the
Mayans that Ah Xoc Kin was dead.î
ìA solar eclipse,î Jones replied. ìSeen as
doom and gloom by most ancient peoples.î
Isidro continued. ìThe Mayans built a
tomb for Ah Xoc Kin, hidden within Chichen Itza.
Chac Mool was to guard the tomb, and the
offerings, but then the Mayan empire died. In their
place stood the Toltecs, who took over Chichen
Itza, reshaping it in their image. The tomb became
a mere memory. Though the Spanish missionaries
searched for it, as did your American friends, it
was not found. All that was were these,î Isidro
struck another of the stones.
Jones was silent a moment, then turned,
scanning the landscape, then up at the pyramid.
He turned back to Isidro.
ìWhere is Chac Mool?î
Isidro stood. ì My friends shall show
you.î
The Mayans had been left standing at the
foot of the staircase, as Isidro instructed. Isidro
spoke quickly, in a tongue foreign to Jones. The
first Mayan nodded, pointing up at Kukulkan.
Isidro nodded, then turned to Jones.
ìUp there, Dr. Jones, you will find Chac
Mool.î
Jones wiped more sweat from his brow.
ìWell, I didnít bring anything to sacrifice; I hope
heíll still see us.î Jones took a step.
ìNot that way, Dr. Jones,î Isidro
remarked. He began to walk up the pyramid
divergent to the stairs. ìThis way. You must never
turn your back to the gods.î
Jones found the movement cumbersome
and impractical, but had seen enough in his
adventures to not question the ancient superstition.
The Mayan guides moved swiftly and gracefully,
moving again without a sound. Isidro turned back
to Jones, chuckling.
ìHurry, Dr. Jones. Chac Mool waits for
no one.î
The summit of the pyramid offered a
spectacular view from all sides. From the west he
could see the entire extent of the great ball game
field, from the south the few standing smaller
temples and palaces. Beyond the city there was a
vast expanse of green, extending for what seemed
like to the edge of the world. Jones was reminded
of the vast cornfields of the Midwest.
The summit itself held a small temple,
accessible from only one side. Within the temple
there was little: several reliefs of Mayan gods,
including several of Quetzacoatl. Near the back of
the room there was a small chair, which Isidro
identified as the Throne of the Jaguars, where the
high priest would sit during religious ceremonies.
Nearer the entrance sat a curiously carved
figurine, about two feet tall, shaped like a man
lying on his back, head turned outward, a bowl in
his lap. Jones knelt before it.
ìChac Mool. Messenger to the gods. The
sacrificial altar of the Mayans. The hearts of the
sacrificed would rest here. A gift to the gods,î
Jones indicated the bowl.
The first Mayan spoke. Jones turned.
ìWhat is he saying?î he asked Isidro.
Isidro paused, listening. ìHe says that
Chac Mool no longer accepts gifts to the gods. His
tribe can no longer pray here.î He paused. ìHe
says that other tribes cannot make offerings at
Uxmal or Tikal, either. The tribesmen do not
know what to do.î
ìWhy? Why doesnít he accept offerings
anymore?î Jones asked.
Isidro relayed the question to the Mayan.
ìChac Mool is a mortal. He has grown old, and is
dying. He can no longer make the annual trip to
the heavens. He must make the trip soon, as the
gods grow weary. If he is not heard from, the gods
will die, as well.î
ìThe gods lives depend on a mortal?î
Jones questioned, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
Isidro paused, listening to the Mayan
tongue. ìThe gods live for the survival of the
earth. If their link with the earth is severed, they
have no reason for survival. They shall die. Then
the sky shall grow dark. The earth shall turn
barren. The rain will not fall, and the sea shall dry
up. And as the sea and the earth dries up, man will
wither, as well.î
Jones stood and turned, facing Isidro.
ìAnd so where is Chac Mool where he canít
deliver his messages?î
ìHe is, like I have said, guarding the
Tomb of Ah Xoc Kin. But he has grown elderly,
and can no longer find his way back to heaven.î
Jones brushed past Isidro and the
Mayans. ìYou say...î Jones paused, scanning the
landscape of Chichen Itza, ìyou say the tomb is
somewhere within the city?î
Isidro paused a moment before
answering. ìSi, senor. It is buried beneath one of
the temples. Or so the legend says. But the legend
is not exacting.î
Jones sighed. He scanned the city again,
then pulled out the rubbing of the Mayan glyph he
made at Tikal, reading it again.
ìFrom where the jaguar lurks, and where
the eagle flies...î
ìEspiritu verde!î the second Mayan
blurted out, shaking his head. ìNo! No espiritu
verde!î
The first Mayan erupted in a similar
chant. ìNo! No jaguar!î
Jones turned at the sudden burst of
protests. ìWhatís wrong?î
ìThe jaguar, Dr. Jones. The espiritu
verde. The spirit of the jaguar. He hunts the halls
of the temple down there, by the game court.î
ìThe temple?î
ìThe Temple of the Jaguars.î
From where the jaguar lurks...
...a gift to Ah Xoc Kin...
Jones looked down defiantly at the
temple.
ìThatís it. Thatís where the tomb lies,î
Jones remarked.
ìThere?î Isidro laughed. ìYou do not go
there, Dr. Jones. Only the foolish go there. And
thatís where the foolish go to die.î
ìIíve seen worse than jaguars, Isidro.î
Jones began a slow ascent down the pyramid
stairway, towards the temple.
ìI will not go with you, Dr. Jones. You
may wish to die, but I choose otherwise.î He
paused, then added, ìmy payment, Dr. Jones.î
Jones paused. He sighed, then turned
slowly around. He tossed a small bag towards
Isidro. It dropped to his feet, its contents jingling.
Isidro quickly grabbed the bag, peering
in. ìHey! Whereís the other half?!î
ìYouíll get it after I get back. Wait here
until then,î Jones replied bitterly.
Isidro laughed. ìI shall be waiting a long
time. You will not come back-- Indiana Jones.î
Jones did look back as Isidro laughed. He
paused only momentarily as a solemn cry cut
through the laughter. A single voice, a low chirp,
a mourning cry from a quetzal. It continued its
solemn chirp as Jones descended into darkness, a
man condemned by the city of Chichen Itza.

Chapter Two

Simply Business

Valladolid, Mexico
July 10, 1942

The cantina was not unlike the others in
Valladolid: dimly lit, hazy, filled with the soft
voices of its patrons and the softer glow of their
lighted cigars. The cantina was a personal favorite
of Dr. Sanchez, no doubt due to the fact that his
brother owned it, since the service and drinks were
lousy; he didnít care much about the doctorís
activities, as long as he got a cut of the profit as
the ìliaisonî between the two parties.
Sanchez turned and rotated the small
stone figurine in his hands, running his thumb and
index finger over it, into every groove in notch. He
looked briefly up at the man sitting opposite to
him through his wide-rimmed spectacles. The man
anxiously shot a look back at him. Sanchez placed
the figurine down slowly onto the table before
him.
Sanchez took a breath. ìAn interesting
piece, Mr. Valdez. From the looks of it I can only
assume it is Mayan in origin, though there is the
outside chance of it being Toltec. It would seem to
be a statue of Quetzacoatl, though the fact that it is
represented as a human leads me to believe it
could be a figurine of Ce Acatl Topilzin. I could
not be sure without another scientific opinion. Itís
in the Puuc style, placing it in the Recent Classical
era of about 800 B.C. The stone it is carved from
probably places the city of origin at Rio Bec. I
have only seen this particular type of statuette once
before,î Sanchez commented.
Valdez nodded. ìYes, that is good. How
much is it worth?î
Sanchez chuckled. ìYes, of course.
Excuse me for trying to enlighten you. I forget that
your kind only speaks in monetary units,î he said
sharply. He picked up the piece again. ìThe piece
itself is in fair condition. On the secondary
market: Several thousand. On my market:
Significantly more.î
Valdez smiled broadly. ìThat would do,
Dr. Sanchez.î
ìYes, I suppose that would do, for you.
However, as I have said, I need another opinion. I
wouldnít want to cheat you-- or, more importantly,
cheat myself. You understand how it is?î
ìYes. Of course. I can wait until
tomorrow.î
Sanchez smiled. ìOh, you wonít need to
wait. I have an associate with me.î He motioned
with his right hand to a man behind him.
ìAlejhandro?î
The man, until now shrouded in
darkness, stepped forward. He was well built,
muscular, and tall. Valdez was drawn to his face;
dirty, brushed, with a scar across his left cheek; a
recent addition, Valdez surmised. He met eyes
with Valdez, and suddenly Valdez didnít feel
comfortable anymore.
Sanchez noticed the sudden change in the
manís disposition. He glanced up at Alejhandro,
handing the figurine to him. ìAlejhandro, Iíd like
your opinion on this piece. What do you think?î
Alejhandro took brief glances at the
piece, maintaining eye contact with Valdez.
Valdez began to sweat. Sanchez watched the
subtle movements of Valdezís left arm as the
silence between the party grew more intense.
Sanchez glanced over at the bar.
ìYep,î Alejhandro finally replied.
ìYep-- what?î Sanchez asked, keeping
his eyes on Valdez.
ìThis is the piece that was stolen off the
truck.î
The silver steel of the pistol twinkled in
the dim light as Valdez lifted his left arm and
brought the gun to bear in one quick fluid motion
on Alejhandro. Alejhandro began a dodge to the
left, flinching as he heard the gun shot.
Valdez shouted as the gun flew from his
hand. He fell back into the booth, grasping his
right hand. He glanced over at the bar, and saw
the dark outline of the bartender, his revolver still
keeping steady on Valdez.
ìDespite what they say about this place, I
think the service is excellent,î Sanchez
commented coolly.
Before Valdez could recover from his
shock, Alejhandro leaped from the floor, clutching
Valdez by the neck and lifting him from his chair.
Valdez let out several soft gasps for breath, then
several moans of fear as he saw the glint a metal
as Alejhandro drew the switchblade.
ìYou like this?î Alejhandro said sharply,
running the blade lightly down the scar on his
cheek. ìWhatís that saying from that Babylon
ruler, boss?î Alejhandro asked Sanchez, ìan eye
for and eye, a cheek for a cheek?î
ìPut the man down, Alejhandro,î
Sanchez replied. ìWeíll need him alive.î
Alejhandro reluctantly dropped Valdez.
Valdez rubbed his throat, gasping for air.
ìNow Mr. Valdez, I wish to inform you
that, normally, I would have cared less about what
Alejhandro was about to do to you. But since this
figurine is still in one piece, and you so graciously
brought it back-- hopefully out of guilty
conscience-- I will let you live.î Sanchez paused.
ìFor now.î
Valdez nodded nervously. ìThank you,
Dr. Sanchez...î
ìHowever... if I see you near me, or any
of my caravans, ever again, I shall personally put
you into... retirement,î Sanchez put additional
expression into his last word.
Valdez quickly rose to his feet. ìYes, of
course, or course...î he made a final glance at
Alejhandro, then made a hasty retreat to the exit,
disappearing in the gray mist of the cantina.
Sanchez picked up the figurine,
examining it for a second time. He then handed it
over to Alejhandro, who stood, waiting.
ìHave this on the next shipment to
Coleman. Apologize for the delay... and give him
another ten percent off,î Sanchez added. ìI feel
generous today.î
Alejhandro quick took it. ìSure, boss. Iíve
got my men waiting to ship tonight.î
ìOh, Alejhandro,î Sanchez added as the
man began to exit, ìthat ten percent loss comes out
of your salary. Itís careless of you to let common
thieves steal precious artifacts from me. Do not let
it happen again.î
ìOf course, boss,î Alejhandro replied,
disappointedly with a slight touch of anger. He
retreated that same way as he entered, back
through the shadows at the rear of the bar.
By this time Sanchezís brother, Xavier,
had made it over to Sanchezís table. He holstered
the revolver, sitting across from Sanchez.
Checking the bullet in hole in the bar wall with his
finger, Xavier spoke.
ìWhy did you let that scum go?î
ìWhy?î Sanchez downed the last bit of
wine from his glass, placing it back on the table.
ìHe was nothing but a hired hand. As the old
saying goes, never kill the messenger. Donít you
ever clean these tables?î he asked, wiping dirt
from his finger.
ìMost people who come in here donít
have very high standards to begin with, brother--
thatís why I stay in business,î Xavier shot
Sanchez a grin. ìNow, what about a messenger?î
ìKismet hired him. Obviously the piece
holds some importance to him.î
ìThen why did Valdez come here to pawn
it off?î
ìBecause Kismet got he wanted-- the
genuine piece. The one Valdez brought back was a
copy-- a very good copy, but a copy nonetheless.î
ìAnd yet you still sell it?î
ìColemanís a fool... he believes anything
with a high price must be genuine. That figurine
will be lost within the long rows of artifacts he
already has lined up as trophies. Besides, I gave
him a substantial discount.î He paused. ìItís just
business. Kismet will get his, as well... but first I
must finish with Dr. Jones.î
ìDr. Sanchez!î a voice burst out from
across the room. ìDr. Sanchez!î A small, thin
man broke through the smokescreen, coughing.
ìWhat is it?î
ìIsidroís back, Dr. Sanchez. He brings
word of Indiana Jones.î The man turned, pointing
with his arm near the door. Isidro approached, his
face and clothes worn and filthy.
Sanchez checked his watch, squinting to
read it in the cloudy light. ìYouíre late.î
ìYes... Iím sorry, Dr. Sanchez,î Isidro
said with a light chuckle, ìI camouflaged the jeep
much better than I thought.î
ìWhat of Jones?î
ìJones? Heís probably dead by now.î
ìYou left Jones by himself?î Sanchez
asked, slightly alarmed.
ìThe man is a fool! He dismissed my
warnings about the temple...î
ìWhat temple?î
ìThe Temple of the Jaguars, senor.î
ìThe Temple of the Jaguars?î Sanchez
chuckled. ìThe espiritu verde, is that what you are
afraid of?î
Isidro nodded.
ìThat is nothing but Mayan foolery.
There are no such things as spirits, or ghosts, or
curses... what was Jones after?î Sanchez asked,
curiously.
ìChac Mool, senor. He believes Ah Xoc
Kinís tomb to lie below the temple.î
ìYes, of course. Ah Xoc Kin was often
portrayed with jaguar-like characteristics.î
Sanchez paused. ìIsidro, go get the jeep,î he
laughed, ìitís time to pay a visit to Dr. Jones.î
Sanchez stood, placing his hat neatly on
his balding head. He made a step, then paused,
turning back towards his brother.
ìOh, one last thing,î Sanchez said,
coughing, ìcanít you do something about this
smoke? How about a ëNo Smokingí sign,
perhaps?î
ìSorry, brother,î Xavier said with a
smile, ìthe customers donít like it. Itís just
business.î

Follow Ups:

• Really good so far... keep going with it! :) Goodsport 17:56:41 1/09/2000 (0)

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