Deity (8 page)

Whether
feared or revered, the calendar behind the 2012 craze had been hopelessly blown
out of proportion and Chac was disgusted with the entire show.

Luckily
for him, the awkward attention drawn by the little blonde girl proved to be
short-lived. Perhaps disappointed by his lack of response to the little girl’s
plea, the visitors moved on to the things they’d come for.

They’d
all turned away, except one.

Another
blonde, a young woman in a sleeveless shirt and cargo pants, had not stopped
watching him. In fact, as he returned to his coffee pursuit, he noticed her
following him. Having had enough of the ignorant public for one day, Chac quickly
changed course for the ruins outside, hoping to lose her over an unpaid park
fee at the check station.

No
such luck. The young lady made it through with her day pass in hand, and she
began closing in on him fast.

“Dr.
Webb?” she called. “Are you Dr. Webb?”

“I
have no doctorate,” he snarled, listening to her feet frantically chase after
him over the graveled path.

“Are
you Dr. Webb, the archaeologist?”

Chac
spotted a suspicious group of tourists huddled tightly together within the
border of trees along the main path, their heads just visible over the brush
and undergrowth in what might have appeared as a childish game of
duck-duck-goose.

“Look,”
he barked to the young lady as he irritably stepped around a blanket vendor
hawking bogus crystals. “I’m an independent researcher.
An
amateur archaeologist.
I have no doctorate.”

The
girl was persistent. “How may I address you then?”

Chac
zeroed in on the huddled group ahead. The girl stayed with him like a fly he
couldn’t swat away. “What is it that you want?”

“I’m
Lori Dewson. Dr. John Friedman referred me to you.”

He
stopped and finally turned back to the young woman who bounced off his chest in
surprise. “Dewson?” he said.
“The American that found the Effigy
of Quetzalcoatl?”

The
girl smiled. “You know about that?”

“Who
in this hemisphere doesn’t?”

“Of
course, I’m sure Dr. Friedman told you all about it. Like I said on the phone,
I’m excited to see the Quetzalcoatl fresco you found. I know I’m a week late
but—”

“You’ve
got the wrong guy.” Chac turned back to the tourists. They were close enough to
smell the pot passing between them. “You need to talk to Matt about that.”

Lori
Dewson stepped in beside him, matching him stride for stride over the vines and
dead branches obstructing their course. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

“I’m
not Webb.”

“Do
you know where I might find him?”

They
were close enough now for Chac to reach into the ring of tourists and intercept
the joint from the next recipient. He crushed it between his fingers. “Take
your smoke out of the park,” he growled in disgust.

With
little more than a few low grumblings, the potheads rose to their feet and
grudgingly disbursed. Chac flicked the joint to the ground and smeared it into
the undergrowth with his heel.

“Would
you listen to that,” he said irritably, his attention immediately drawn to the
chanting and singing that echoed through the trees blocking his view of the
sacred path just beyond. He knew the group. They called themselves The Itzas,
borrowing the name from the ancient Maya priests who once ruled Chichen Itza. In reality,
the chanters were nothing more than a collection of showmen who’d arrived six
months ago, looking to wow the crowds out of a few pesos with their “authentic”
Mayan sacrifices.

“This
place has become a free-for-all,” Chac lamented. “It’s a regular Mickey Mouse
show. I can’t wait for 2013 to roll around.”

“So
you don’t believe the world is about to end then either,” Lori observed dryly.

Chac
looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time. He sensed intelligence
behind those emerald eyes, a refreshing quality after a long year spent
observing the disrespectful profit-makers leeching a living off of ignorant,
ogling tourists.

“The
world is always on the verge of destruction according to somebody,” he said. “Once
everyone realizes that the earth doesn’t revolve around the Mayan calendar,
they’ll find another way to count down Armageddon.”

“I’m
not as interested in the end of the world as I am in finding Dr. Webb,” Lori
admitted. “Do you know where he is?”

It
was certainly hard to knock this one off track.

“Your
guess is as good as mine,” Chac finally admitted. “He took off five days ago.”

“He
didn’t tell you where he was going?”

“Not
a word.”

Lori
looked disappointed. She’d come a long way for nothing, he guessed. Personally,
Chac appreciated the break offered through Matt’s leaving. With Matt gone, he
could finally concentrate on his own work without interruption.

He
started back through the forest, back for the main pathway they’d diverted
from. “Why is it so important that you find him?”

As
expected, Lori stepped right in line with him. “I’m investigating the legend of
Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl—the Toltec king who was…”

“Who
was kicked out of Tula
and sent out to sea on a raft of snakes.”

Lori’s
eyes brightened. “So you know the story.”

“You
said it yourself—it’s a legend.”

“Legend
or not, I have reason to believe the story of Quetzalcoatl’s banishment is true
enough. However, I question whether he actually went east. I believe he traveled
north instead.”

Chac
was mildly intrigued. Here was a theory he’d never heard before. “So what
brings you to Chichen Itza?”

“Well,
there is another legend that suggests Quetzalcoatl landed here in Yucatan. I was told that
Dr. Webb has been looking for evidence of his arrival.”

“So
you’re here to compare notes?”

“Basically.”

Chac
found the main path again. It wasn’t hard considering the steady stream of
visitors making their exodus for the ruins. He stopped there, intending this to
be the place he finally parted ways from the young blonde. With any luck, she’d
soon be just another pair of eyes taking in the ruins of Chichen Itza.

“You
don’t need Matt,” he said. He pointed a finger after the trail of people
passing by, pointing to the end of the main path. “There’s evidence of
Quetzalcoatl’s arrival just beyond those trees.”

Lori
didn’t take the bait so easily. “How so?” she asked.

Chac
checked his watch. It wasn’t that he had anything pressing to do. He’d just
expected to be on his way to Chixchulub with his coffee by now. Then again, the
morning was half-wasted already. He wouldn’t get much work done by the time he
reached the coast anyway. What harm would there be in helping the woman who’d
discovered the Effigy of Quetzalcoatl?

“Come
with me,” he relented. “After you see Chichen
Itza you won’t wonder about Quetzalcoatl’s destination
any longer.”

Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl

Vendor
blankets burdened with their colorful array of souvenirs lined the shade of the
path connecting the visitor center to Chichen
Itza’s main attractions. As Lori followed Chac she
watched the ruins slowly unfold from the trees as layers of leaf and bark
peeled away from stone and stucco. She got a sense that something phenomenal
waited just ahead and then, as they stepped out of the trees, she saw it.

They
were confronted by a dilated clearing dominated by an imposing four-sided
pyramid. The stepped pyramid lofted a temple at its crown, fashioned abruptly
against the skyline like some massive stone cake topper. The choking rainforest
had been cleared away from the ruins, allowing the pyramid’s height to be
challenged only by that of a restored temple just beyond. But it was the
pyramid that drew people from all directions, no doubt centralizing
itself
within their imaginations, just as it had always
done.

Just as it was meant to do.

It
wasn’t the first pyramid Lori had ever seen. A mere six months ago she’d become
acquainted with the great ruins near Mexico
City. Teotihuacan
had been the most impressive with its incredible spread of monolithic pyramids,
though there’d been little time for sight-seeing as she searched for the stolen
Effigy.

This
time Lori had time on her hands. This time she intended to do all the
sight-seeing she could manage, with one purpose in mind—to prove Ce Acatl
Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl, the legendary Toltec king, did not step foot amongst
these ruins.

“Be
sure to avoid the ring,” Chac warned as they worked their way around to the
pyramid’s north-facing staircase. There, two gaping serpent heads guarded the
bases of the balustrades like ancient Mesoamerican gargoyles. Spanning between
them was a circle of chalk that marred the ground. “Step in that and you become
part of the side show.”

Lori
made sure to give the ring a wide berth.

“This
is the Castillo,” Chac said, lifting his eyes along the severe profile of the
pyramid. “Also known as the Pyramid of Kukulkan. Look familiar?”

It
did look strangely familiar. Unlike the hulking pyramids of Teotihuacan, the Castillo didn’t come to a
point at the top. In fact, if one could remove the blocky temple at its summit,
the stepped pyramid would appear unfinished, cropped,
blunt
—

“Just
like Pyramid B in Tula,”
she said.

“Right.”

Tula
—the
Toltec capitol just northeast of Teotihuacan,
the city from which Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl had been overthrown.
Tula
lacked the grandeur and popularity of Chichen Itza
and Teotihuacan,
but Lori found it no less interesting. Its pyramids weren’t nearly as
appealing. In fact one was little more than a half-excavated mound. But the
blunt platform of Pyramid B was captivating in its own right. It had history
and history fascinated Lori.

“It
looks to me like Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl rebuilt his old temple right here in Chichen Itza,” Chac
observed.

“It
could be a coincidence,” Lori argued. “How do you know this was his pyramid?”

“Topiltzin
Quetzalcoatl adopted his name from the God he worshiped—the feathered serpent,
Quetzalcoatl. I’m sure you are well aware of Quetzalcoatl’s popularity in Central Mexico. But here in Mayaland there isn’t such a strong
display of the feathered serpent religion as there is Chichen Itza. In fact, the word for feathered
serpent in the Mayan language is Kukulkan.”

“In
other words, the Pyramid of Kukulkan is the Pyramid of Quetzalcoatl,” Lori
added.

Chac
nodded and turned back to the steps steeply ascending the pyramid. “There are
ninety-one steps scaling each of the pyramid’s four sides,” he explained. “That
makes three hundred sixty-four steps in all. The topmost platform makes three
hundred sixty-five.”

“A
step for each day of the year,” Lori observed.

“That’s
right.”

“So
this is also a calendar pyramid.”

“Possibly,
but the Castillo is better known for its shadow-play. It was built in line with
the equinox sun which casts a shadow that slithers down all nine levels of the
north face, connecting with these serpent heads.” Chac patted the snout of one
of the balustrade serpents. “The visual effect is a snake descending the
pyramid, its head on the ground and its tail still in the air.”

Lori
considered Chac’s illustration for a moment. The Castillo did resemble the
pyramid in Tula,
but the similarities seemed to have ended there. “Pyramid B doesn’t have any
sort of shadow-play like that. In fact, I don’t recall it having any cosmic
significance at all.”

Chac
was unfazed by her observation. “If the Castillo doesn’t convince you of a
Toltec presence here, there is plenty more to look at. Follow me.”

Lori
followed him across the clearing, a plaza it seemed given the spackling of
ruins fringing the tree line. They wove their way through gaping, awe-struck
crowds, aiming directly for the temple behind the Castillo. Lori didn’t need
any prompting this time. She immediately recognized a familiar feature from Tula.

The colonnade.

Rows
of perfectly aligned stone columns guarded the front of the temple, wrapped
around its side and disappeared into the trees beyond. The wooden roof they
once supported had long perished with time leaving a regiment collection of
skeletal stone pillars. Chac stopped at one of the blocky columns erected just
before the steps of the temple.

“Columns
were not used in typical Mayan architecture,” Chac said. “But we see them
here.”

“I
already know where you’re going with this,” Lori interrupted. “I’ve seen the
colonnade in Tula.”