Doctor Who: The Aztecs (6 page)

‘With this I shall win?’ Ixta asked.

‘Be careful not to scratch yourself with it,’ the Doctor advised.

‘The aged servant of Yetaxa proffers poison?’

‘Not to kill.’ The Doctor squeezed the last drop of sap onto the thorn. ‘But used properly it will drain away your opponent’s strength and he will sleep. Scratch here.’ The Doctor drew it across the inside of his wrist and then handed the thorn to the Chosen Warrior.

‘I thank you.’ Ixta smiled.

‘You won’t forget the drawing, will you?’

‘I shall be here after sunset.’

‘So shall I.’

Ixta strode away and the Doctor sat on a bench thinking that a little knowledge of horticulture could, on occasion, take one a very long way.

Under Tlotoxl’s appraising eyes, Ian stood in the middle of the courtyard swinging a cudgel in circles around his head and alongside his body, shifting it from hand to hand. It reminded him of working out with Indian clubs in a gymnasium — only this time he was not simply toning up his muscles but preparing himself for a battle that would mean life or death. Under Aztec law, he had defeated Ixta, but he knew that neither Tlotoxl nor the Chosen Warrior would accept it. He realised he was no match for Ixta with a spear — fighting with them he would be on the defensive, using his shield for protection. With cudgels he thought he stood a chance, but with his bare hands he knew he could win. He needed a strategy, a battle plan which would never give Ixta the advantage. The problem was to bring the contest to a wrestling match as quickly as possible so that he could use a mixture of techniques — all-in, judo and karate — of which he was confident the Aztecs knew nothing. He paused to consider the problem.

‘Does fatigue affect the young man in Yetaxa’s service’?’ Tlotoxl’s voice was sardonic.

Ian looked at him evenly. ‘Does the High Priest of Sacrifice scorn my attempts to prove my worthiness to command?’ Ian picked up a second cudgel and began swinging both of them in a gymnasium routine. As the studded cudgels were heavier than Indian clubs his wrists soon began to ache but he was determined not to let Tlotoxl see any sign of it. Ixta came onto the courtyard and went to Tlotoxl’s side as Ian stepped up his tempo.

‘Can you conquer him, Ixta?’ Tlotoxl murmured.

‘I know it,’ Ixta grinned and called to Ian, who stopped, secretly grateful, and turned to face him. ‘Yes, Ixta?’

‘I challenge you to a contest of strength.’

‘A fight?’

‘Without weapons. Your hands defeated me. Now let mine strive for victory over you.’

Ian was suspicious. He could not understand why Ixta would throw down the gauntlet where he had the least likelihood of success.

‘Will you refuse him?’ Tlotoxl’s voice rasped. ‘No,’ Ian replied.

‘Then we fight here as the sun sets.’

‘All right’ Ian began to swing the cudgels again but his brain sought the reason behind the challenge.

‘You are confident of victory?’ Tlotoxl’s eyes were fixed on Ian as he muttered the question to Ixta. ‘If you wish it, he shall die,’ Ixta replied.

Tlotoxl nodded. ‘Let him die,’ he said with a brushing aside movement of his hand.

Barbara and Autloc were in the temple. She was standing beside the throne and the High Priest of Knowledge had been questioning her about Aztec mythology. Once again Barbara owed much to her studies at university.

‘I shall tell the High Priest of Sacrifice that I am satisfied of your divinity,’ Autloc said when the questioning was finished.

‘That won’t stop Tlotoxl.’ Barbara smiled wryly. ‘He is determined to destroy me.’

‘He cannot whilst I believe you to be Yetaxa,’ Autloc said gravely.

‘Yet you question me at his bidding.’

‘We both serve Huitzilipochtti.’

‘Do you?’ Barbara looked at him quizzically. ‘Were you not angry when I forbade the sacrifice to the Rain God?’

‘Do you then question the necessity of human sacrifice?’

‘I accept it. We send messengers to many Gods,’ Autloc smiled at her, ‘why should the Gods not send a messenger to us?’

‘To say there must be no more human sacrifice,’ Barbara suggested quietly. She walked around the throne running her right forefinger along the arm, over the back and along the other arm.

‘I shall not oppose the Gods if it is their will that such sacrifices cease.’

‘And Tlotoxl, what of him?’

‘I have said we both serve Huitzilipochtli and through him other Gods whose biddings we obey.’

Barbara smiled at his serious face. ‘The High Priest of Knowledge speaks with great wisdom.’

He studied his posy of flowers for a few seconds before replying. ‘If your words are denied, shall we not be living in defiance of the Gods?’ he asked.

Barbara went back mentally to her history hooks again and the end of the Aztec civilisation under the Spanish yoke. ‘Famine, drought and disaster will come and more and more sacrifices will be made in supplication,’ she said slowly, measuring out her words. ‘I see a time to come when ten thousand warriors will die in one day under the obsidian knives of High Priests of Sacrifice.’

‘In one day?’ Autloc was deeply distressed.

Barbara thought about the Aztecs’ last desperate bid to turn the tide of battle in their favour, never fully realising that a loincloth, sandals, plumed head-dress, stabbing sword, studded cudgel, arrows and a shield were no match for armoured breastplates, boots, steel helmets, cannons, blunderbusses, arquebusses and pistols.

‘Then where will it end, Yetaxa?’ Autloc’s voice quavered.

‘In total destruction,’ Barbara replied softly. ‘Your civilisation will pass forever from this land.’

‘You prophesy our doom.’ Autloc’s hands quivered in despair.

Barbara stood silently beside the throne and waited. ‘Let me think on these words, great Spirit,’ he said finally, bowed to her and hurried from the temple. Barbara watched him leave. What are you playing at Barbara Wright? she asked herself. Still trying to meddle with history? You know it can’t be done, didn’t the Doctor tell you, didn’t you ignore him, and fail? So what are you doing quoting facts and statistics out of history books and causing enormous distress to the only Aztec ally you have? She felt ashamed and suddenly very tired. She left the temple and went down to the antechamber to rest.

The High Priests met on the stairs and Autloc related word for word all that Barbara had told him.

‘So she prophesies our doom,’ Tlotoxl sneered. ‘Without doubt to avert her own.’ He jabbed a finger at Autloc. ‘I tell you she is not Yetaxa, she is a false God.’ ‘I do not know it,’ Autloc replied firmly.

‘Question her again and again and again, then you will learn if speak the truth.’

They heard the Doctor puffing his way up the stairs. ‘The old man,’ Tlotoxl said, ‘let us withdraw.’

They hid in the shadows of an alcove and watched the Doctor as he muttered that he was too old for this sort of thing and continued climbing up the stairs to the antechamber where Barbara was resting.

She started as he came in. ‘Doctor, go away,’ but he flopped onto a couch instead. ‘No one’s allowed to see’

‘Nonsense,’ the Doctor gasped, ‘the guards didn’t stop me.’ He waved an arm vaguely towards the door. ‘And besides, I’m supposed to be your aged servant.’ There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice which Barbara decided to ignore.

‘Didn’t Tlotoxl warn you that during my questioning none of you are allowed up here?’

‘No,’ the Doctor stood up wearily. ‘All right, I’ll go as soon as I’ve told you that I’ll know how to get into the tomb by tonight.’

Barbara was relieved. ‘I won’t be sorry,’ she said.

‘All I had to do was make sure that the warrior grandson of the man who built this temple wins a fight at sunset,’ the Doctor confided with a wink.

‘But that’s Ixta,’ Barbara cried, ‘Ian’s rival for command, and it’s to be a fight to the death, Tlotoxl told me so.’

The Doctor was alarmed. ‘I must warn Chesterton,’ he said and went to the antechamber door. He opened it, but the way was barred by two guards with Tlotoxl and Autloc.

‘Take him,’ Tlotoxl commanded, ‘he has transgressed the law.’

The guards seized the Doctor’s arms and led him away as he protested in vain. Tlotoxl followed them. Autloc remained and Barbara looked at him angrily.

‘They had no right to arrest my aged servant.’

‘As the High Priest of Sacrifice observed, he has.. ’ Barbara cut him of with a chopping motion of her hand. ‘No one told him! He didn’t know!’

Autloc frowned. ‘If that is so then to hold him prisoner is unjust. I shall obtain his release.’

‘I thank you, Autloc.’

The High Priest bowed and turned to leave the antechamber.

‘Wait,’ Barbara said suddenly,’There is to be a contest between my servant, Ian, and the chosen warrior, Ixta. I forbid it.’

Autloc looked at her uncomfortably. ‘Great Spirit, the contest cannot be avoided. Only one of them may command our armies’

‘Then let it be Ixta.’

Autloc was shocked. ‘You deny your servant honour?’ he asked.

Barbara shook her head and said that the contest was ill-timed, that Ixta had been in training for many months. Autloc protested that he had seen Ian defeat Ixta with his thumb and, besides, the combat would not be mortal. ‘See that it remains so,’ Barbara commanded.

‘Yetaxa has spoken,’ Autloc replied and bowed again.

Ian and Ixta faced each other across the courtyard. They wore loincloths and sandals. Tonila and the Perfect Victim stood against one wall. The Perfect Victim held two cudgels. He looked at Ixta, then at Ian, both of whom nodded. The Perfect Victim raised the cudgels above his head.

‘Let the contest begin,’ he called, striking the cudgels together.

Ian and Ixta circled each other warily, which in Ixta’s case was a mistake as Ian suddenly lunged at him. Ixta reached out to grab Ian’s arms, but Ian broke the attempted hold by swinging his arms in a full circle and at the same time his right foot shot behind Ixta’s left ankle and jerked him off balance. Ixta staggered back and Ian moved in, grabbing the Chosen Warrior by one arm, then turning away abruptly to go for a shoulder throw. Ixta had sense enough to realise that if he tried to resist his arm would break. He hit the ground face down in front of Ian who didn’t release his arm but, holding it in a handlock, began kneading Ixta’s muscle with his other fist. Both Tonila and the Perfect Victim were impressed but Ixta wanted to cry out in fury as he felt the strength draining away from his arm. He knew that with an arm useless he had already lost the contest. Somehow he had to break Ian’s hold and reach the thorn which he had carefully placed beside the door to his quarters.

Then Ian made his mistake. Knowing Ixta’s arm was completely weakened, he released his handhold and stepped back. Using his good arm and under Ian’s watchful eyes, Ixta rose to his knees and massaged his useless arm. At that moment Tlotoxl, Autloc and the Doctor came into the courtyard.

‘Don’t let him scratch you, Chesterton,’ the Doctor shouted immediately. Ian was puzzled and looked at the Doctor.

‘Scratch me?’ he asked. The distraction gave Ixte enough time to scramble to his feet, race to the door, grab the thorn and throw himself at Ian who easily blocked the attack but not before the thorn had been drawn across the inside of his wrist.

‘Use stealth, use cunning you said,’ Ixta was jubilant. ‘You defeated me with your thumb, I have defeated you with the thorn of the maguey cactus.’

‘Plus a sleep-inducing herb,’ the Doctor protested as Ixta threw away the thorn. Ian knew that to win he had to do it quickly. He also realised that the more energy he expended, the harder his heart would pump and the faster the drug would circulate through his system. He needed a submission hammerlock, but Ixta was keeping his distance, dancing out of the way, waiting.

‘Stop this childish nonsense, Tlotoxl,’ the Doctor demanded, ‘stop it.’

Tlotoxl had victory in his eyes as he looked at the Doctor. ‘No’

‘But I gave Ixta the thorn,’ the Doctor protested. ‘Then you should rejoice,’ Tlotoxl replied.’ Ixta will win’

‘Autloc, stop it,’ the Doctor pleaded, ‘the contest is unfair.’

‘I cannot.’ Autloc was embarrassed. ‘The Perfect Victim desired this contest and only the High Priest of Sacrifice, who commands here, can stop it.’

‘Let it continue,’ the Perfect Victim requested. Tlotoxl bowed.

‘And to the death, Ixta, to the death,’ he called ecstatically.

Ixta bent down to pickup one of the studded cudgels. This is my last chance, Ian thought, and rushed at the Chosen Warrior. Once again he caught Ixta off balance and pushed him to his knees. Knowing he no longer had the strength for the submission hold, Ian clamped on a half-nelson and went for the pressure point again with his thumb. But his head was beginning to swim, his eyes blurring and his strength ebbing away. Ixta threw him off. Ian rolled over and stood up groggily while Ixta picked up the second cudgel and handed it cautiously to him.

‘I have but one arm but soon you will sleep,’ Ixta smiled at Ian, ‘forever, and I shall command our armies.’ He swung his cudgel at Ian’s head. Ian saw it coming and fended off the blow, but it sent him reeling.

‘Destroy him, Ixta,’ Tlotoxl was triumphant.

‘Yetaxa forbade it,’ Autloc replied.

‘A false God forbids it,’ Tlotoxl sneered, and turned back to Ixta. ‘Destroy him.’

Ian warded off the repeated blows as best he could, but he knew he had only seconds to live. And then he heard Barbara’s voice.

‘Stop!’ she commanded as she stood at the entrance to the courtyard. Ixta lowered his cudgel, Ian reeling did the same. Tlotoxl turned to Barbara, with venom in his voice.

‘Your place is in the temple.’

‘Even though I am a false God? No, Tlotoxl, I am loyal to those who serve me.’

Tlotoxl looked at her with loathing and then turned to Ixta. ‘Execute him,’ he cried out exultantly, then looked at Barbara. ‘If you are Yetaxa — save him,’ pointing to Ian as Ixta raised the cudgel.

Ian barely saw the movement, but he succeeded in blocking the blow, knowing that the next one would bury the studs in his brain. Ixta raised the cudgel to strike but before he could bring it down Barbara held Tlotoxl from behind, the razor-sharp edge of an obsidian knife against his throat.