Find the Feathered Serpent

Chapter 16 Still No Kukulcan

He held his breath as he heard the dull click of wheel against flint, the grinding of the spring mechanism as the trigger snapped to expose the wick again.

There was the same faint spark, and a sickening wave rushed over Neil.

No flame! There was no flame.

Talu stood at the base of the steps, his eyes blazing, his arms folded across his chest.

“Where is your sign?” he shouted, and a wave of protest rose behind him as the Mayas began grumbling aloud.

Beside Neil, the girl Tela began to tremble violently, her frail body like a thin rush in its white garments.

“Talk to them,” Neil snapped at Erik. “Hold them a while longer.”

“But what are you trying to…”

“Talk to them!” The Norseman saw an intensity flare into his young friend’s eyes.

“Where is your sign?” Talu repeated from the foot of the steps.

“There will be a sign,” Erik said half-heartedly.

Neil covered the lighter with the palm of his hand and tried the trigger again. With his thumb flat against it, he examined the wick. It was short, so short that hardly any part projected beyond the metal circle around it.

Talu turned to his people.

“The gods are dissatisfied with this mock sacrifice.” he said.

A roar of approval went up from the Mayas.

“The gods demand the girl,” one man shouted.

“Give them the girl,” the cry was taken up.

Erik turned a hasty glance toward Neil. Neil was deep in concentration, trying to pluck the wick between his fingernails and yank it up higher.

“The gods are confused,” Erik said. “They will give their sign soon.”

“There will be no sign,” the crowd bellowed. “The gods are displeased.”

“The gods are considering your gift,” Erik said, his fingers nervously touching his ax. “Be patient.”

Neil plucked at the wick with ragged fingernails. He gripped the fiber between his nails and pulled. It moved a fraction of an inch, and then slipped from between his fingers.

“Hurry, Neil,” Erik said. “Hurry.”

Below, the Mayas were moving slowly toward the temple steps.

“There is no sign,” Talu said. “I am asking you to leave the temple. The sacrifice will go on as planned.”

Erik drew his ax. “No one moves onto the steps,” he commanded. “We will wait for a sign.”

Neil plucked at the wick again, pulling out at least a quarter of an inch. He breathed a deep sigh, and dropped the metal lid in place again.

“You are extending the bounds of hospitality,” Talu said menacingly. “There is such a thing as…”

Now, if only there were enough fuel. And if only the flint were working.

Neil snapped the trigger.

There was a click, and a spark.

And a flame!

It licked out at the straw, caught, hung like a red curl of silk, and then flared up as it spread to the surrounding straw.

Neil put his hand quickly into his pocket, the lighter clutched in his trembling fingers.

The flame spread, licking at the straw, dancing a brilliant orange, yellow, and red adagio.

A fearsome gasp went up from the Mayas when they saw the platform burst into flame. Talu backed away several steps, his eyes wide in awe.

“There is your sign,” Erik shouted. “The gods have spoken.”

The Mayas dropped to their knees as the straw ignited the twigs and the entire platform became a great torch that blazed into the night.

Talu dropped to his knees, too, and touched his hand to his forehead.

“The gods have spoken,” he intoned in a solemn voice.

Erik put his arm around Neil’s shoulder. “And I’ll never know how,” he said softly.

Later, when the Mayas had heaped bushel upon bushel of fruit and flowers onto the temple steps and then sacrificed them to the well, Talu approached Erik.

There was wisdom in his eyes and a gentleness to his hand as he took Erik’s hand in his own.

“My friend,” he said, “you have taught us much this night.”

“It is bad to destroy,” Erik said, “unless you are destroying your enemies.”

“Forgive us our ignorance,” Talu went on. “We thought the gods…”

“The gods are just,” Erik interrupted. “They would not have their grandchildren destroy themselves to appease their whims. They are satisfied with the fruit.”

“I shall pray they never have another human sacrifice,” Talu promised.

“It will be better that way,” Erik replied.

The time of harvest was slowly growing nearer. The fields began to burst with green, and Erik proudly supervised the care of the maize plants. Neil, meanwhile, was engrossed in the work Dave was doing on the time machine. The engineer was a tireless worker, up long before Neil stirred. He would eat a hurried breakfast and then go to where the time machine now stood in the city, resting on the stones before one of the temples.

After finishing his breakfast Neil would often join his friend and usually found him deep within the controls of the machine, fumbling with the wires, tightening here and there, his hands grimy and his face covered with sweat.

Several weeks after the near-sacrifice of Tela, Neil joined Dave. “You’re really giving your all to the old girl, aren’t you?” he asked.

Dave spoke very seriously. “Neil, I’m not sure she’ll take us back,” he said. “I like Yucatan all right, but I’m for our own time and place.”

Neil agreed heartily. From that moment he took an active interest in the welfare of the machine. His stay here had been interesting and full of adventure, but he was of the present and this place could never truly be his home. At best this was a sort of extended vacation into the past, and one from which he expected to return. He would never cease to marvel at the accomplishments of the Mayas. They were an astonishing race, and he would have much to tell his father when and if they did return.

One day Neil suddenly remembered Kukulcan, and again asked Talu about the Feathered-Serpent god.

“There is a god by this name?” Talu asked.

“I… I don’t know,” Neil stammered, unable to explain the time angle of his travels. “I thought you would know.”

“The Feathered Serpent?” Talu asked.

“Yes,” Neil replied hastily. “Do you know of him?”

“Kukulcan,” the priest said softly, and Neil waited expectantly.

“No,” Talu answered. “I do not know of any such god. What makes you ask?”

“I… I heard there was such a god in Yucatan.”

‘We have many gods and we serve them well. But there is none called Kukulcan. There is no Feathered Serpent, my friend.”

It was then that the futility of the whole trip struck Neil like a sharp blow to the pit of his stomach. No Kukulcan. All his father’s work, all the years he had spent developing the temporium crystal, planning the time machine, all wasted.

Apparently there was no Feathered Serpent. Somewhere along the line someone had make a mistake. The information was false. Not satisfied, he began checking for himself, studying the sculpted facades of the temples and the pillars, searching in vain for a figure that would resemble a feathered serpent, or even a serpent without feathers.

There was none. Nothing. The time trip had been a fool’s errand. All the dangers, all the anxieties, were for nothing.

Likewise Arthur Blake and Dr. Manning had given their lives at sea for a will-o’-the-wisp.

Neil buried his despondency by helping Dave on the time machine. Hour after hour they worked silently, straightening the still damaged rotor and then plunging into the intricacies of the operating mechanism.

“We should never have used it that night,” Dave said.

“We had to,” Neil answered. This was a conversation they’d had many times before.

“It’s not always best to consider the immediate need,” Dave said. “Because of that night we may never get home again.”

“If we hadn’t used the machine that night,” Neil answered, “we might be dead now.”

They continued to work on the machine, and in the meantime, Erik began preparing his ship for the long ocean voyage ahead. Many of his men had been killed in the barbarian raid, leaving less than half his crew to manage the heavy ship.

There was excitement in his eyes, though, as he spoke to Neil of the voyage.

“The harvest will be a good one, and we will have plenty of food for our trip. My men can handle the ship, Neil. I know they can. And soon we will be home.”