Ash Return Of The Beast Part 28

"Do you even speak the language?"

"Nope."

"Then what?"

Tocho was already inching his way down the bluff. He turned to see Ravenwood still standing above him. "You're not gonna chicken out on me, are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Funny."

At the bottom of the bluff they found themselves at the periphery of the village where they were immediately confronted by a man dressed in the same sort of long white sheetas Tocho described itthat she'd seen back at the marketplace in San Cristobal. The man stood only about five feet tall but the loose fitting fabric couldn't hide his powerful build. The skin of his copper colored face was taught and smooth although he looked to be much older than she first thought. His dark eyes were set deep into a prominent brow and his long black hair reached well below his shoulders. He was a striking figure and Ravenwood wasn't quite sure what to expect.

The man barely glanced at Tocho but focused his attention solely on Ravenwood. His head remained slightly tilted upward, firm jawed, his mouth turned down at the corners as his black, deep-set eyes slowly scanned her from head to toe and back up again. He stared directly into her eyes.

Ravenwood stiffened. She wondered if he was sizing her up like a chicken to be squeezed to death. Then she remembered where she was. These people were not so far removed from her own blood on her mother's side. She lowered her eyes slightly and spoke. "In lak'ech."

The man's face slowly morphed into an approving grin. Without taking his eyes away from hers, he returned the greeting and then he turned to Tocho and spoke in near perfect English, "Tocho, my old friend. I've been expecting you. I see you brought the raven."

Tocho grinned. "Ro, meet Tlacatecolotl.

Ravenwood's surprise was transparent. "You're... the Owl Man?"

Tlacatecolotl looked at her. "Who."

"The Owl Man."

"Who."

Tocho chuckled at the confusion on Ravenwood's face. "The owl sound," he explained. "Hoo? It's a bad joke. He thinks it's funny."

Tlacatecolotl chuckled and gave a reluctant nod. "I confess. My sense of humor is often met with a blank stare." Then his expression s.h.i.+fted abruptly. He reached out and laid a gentle hand on Ravenwood's shoulder. "Come," he said. "You have traveled a long way for a reason and the spirits have told me time is of the essence."

CHAPTER 54.

Ravenwood and Tocho followed behind Tlacatecolotl as he led them across the village to his ceremonial hut.

As they walked along, Ravenwood leaned into Tocho and whispered. "You want to tell me how it is that he just happens to speak fluent English?"

"Spanish, too," Tocho whispered back. "He travels a lot. He's kind of a big deal at shaman conventions every year. New Age expos, that sort of thing. Been doing it for a number of years."

Tlacatecolotl turned slightly and spoke over his shoulder. "Twenty-two, to be exact."

Tocho grinned at Ravenwood. "He hears everything."

"I heard that," the shaman said.

The ceremonial hut seemed much larger inside than it appeared from the outside. Everything in it seemed to have been fas.h.i.+oned out of leaves, stones and sticks of wood. The floor was carpeted with thick woven blankets spread over a cus.h.i.+on of matted leaves. The heavy scent of incense a fragrance that Ravenwood thought smelled vaguely like sandalwoodpermeated the air.

The shaman lifted the lid of a large rectangular basket and pulled out three woven mats. He placed them around a shallow pit in the center of the floor in which the coals of a small fire were smoldering. "Please, sit," he said.

When they were seated around the fire, the shaman poked at the coals with a stick. His countenance had changed. The humor was gone. He looked at Ravenwood. "I knew you were coming," he said. "Long ago the spirits told me this. They were strangely reluctant to tell me why, but there was a sense of darkness in their message. Now I sense the same coming from you. Tell me why you are here."

Ravenwood explained the situation down to the last detail and the shaman listened with great interest and a mounting degree of apprehension.

"So I need your help," she said, finally. "Will you help me do this?"

A look of intense concern was carved into the Owl Man's face. He sat in silence for several moments before giving her an answer. He looked briefly at Tocho and then back to Ravenwood. "You understand the risk you would be taking. Journeying to the Underworld is something few have done. Some have not returned. That is, they returned but as an empty sh.e.l.l, their consciousness trapped in a void from which it can never escape."

Ravenwood's eyes locked onto his. "But you must understand. I have to know if Cowl has in fact summoned the offspring of the Old Ones. I have to know if they are gathered at the Gate, waiting for him to awaken Kutulu. Because if that's true..."

The shaman nodded. His eyes grew distant as if he were seeing the misery and despair of a world consumed by demons. He could see the Gate opening, the Offspring of the Old Ones rus.h.i.+ng forth like starving, s...o...b..ring beasts in wild pursuit of food with an insatiable desire for the sweet taste of human flesh. An overwhelming darkness would roll across the face of the earth like a plague, seeping into every corner, every crack, seeking its hapless victims. The wretched atrocities of all the b.l.o.o.d.y wars ever waged by all the peoples of the world since the dawn of time would pale compared to the torture, the carnage the world would suffer at the whim of these h.e.l.lish creatures. He breathed deeply and rose to his feet.

Ravenwood and Tocho started to stand but the shaman stayed them with an outstretched hand. "I will have to prepare a special blend for your journey. You'll wait here until I return."

Ravenwood looked up. "How long?"

"Not long. Rest." He reached into a small leather pouch that hung from a beaded band around his waist and pulled out what appeared to be a dried but supple leaf that was nearly the size of his hand. From another pouch he withdrew a pinch of what looked vaguely like finely shredded tobacco. Ravenwood surmised it probably wasn't tobacco. He rolled it into the leaf, twisting it at both ends, and lit one end with a wooden match that he seemed to have manifested out of nowhere. He inhaled one long toke before handing it over to her. "Take this," he said. "It will help you rest."

Ravenwood gave a crooked grin. "I'm sure it will."

"What about me?" Tocho said. "I'd like to rest, too, you know."

The coolness of the late hour quickly settled in after Tlacatecolotl left the hut. Ravenwood and Tocho shared the magic smoke and talked of old times as time, itself, drifted away.

After a while, Tocho crawled over to a large basket and found two blankets. Ravenwood watched him with a detached fascination as he moved gracefully in slow motion across the floor. They draped the blankets around themselves and huddled closer to the small fire.

Ravenwood rocked slowly, rhythmically, back and forth, staring silently into the flickering flames. Finally, she spoke. "I can't believe how long those two small logs have been burning."

"I just put them on the fire a little while ago. I think."

Ravenwood's eyebrows arched. "Really?"

"Mm-hmm."

She shook her head. "What time is it, anyway?"

Tocho pulled his arm out from under his blanket and checked his watch. "Quarter to twelve."

"Midnight?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Did we fall asleep?"

Toch pulled the blanket snug around himself and shrugged. "Don't think so. Maybe. I dunno. Ro?"

"Yeah?"

"You scared?"

Ravenwood continued her slow rocking motion and didn't answer.

Tocho nodded. "Me, too. For you, I mean." A few minutes later he added, "And I'm starving."

"Here," said a voice. It was Tlacatecolotl ducking in through the opening of the hut.

Without moving her head, Ravenwood followed him with her eyes.

Tlacatecolotl tossed Tocho a papaya. Then he turned to Ravenwood. "You, on the other hand, better not eat anything. He held out a clay cup. "Believe me," he said, "after you drink this, you'll be glad you don't have any food in your stomach." He squatted down and joined them on the floor. Extending a hand toward Ravenwood, he touched her face and gently lifted one of her eyelids. Staring into her eyes, he nodded and muttered something to himself like an optometrist examining a patient. "How do you feel?"

She forced a smile. "Rested. Ready."

The Owl Man was still holding onto the cup. "You sure? Because once you take this..." he looked down at the cup and then squarely into her well-dilated eyes, "...there will be no turning back."

Ravenwood glanced over at Tocho, then straightened her back and gave a nod to show she understood what she was about to do.

The Owl Man reached across the floor, grabbed the rim of a metal bucket and placed it next to her. "Just in case there's still something left in your stomach and you need to... you know."

Tocho took a second look at the papaya that had seemed so inviting just moments ago and set it aside.

"All right, then," The Owl Man said. He reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a handful of small pellets. He tossed them into the glowing embers of the fire. They made a series of soft sputtering sounds followed by wispy puffs of creamy white smoke. He lifted the cup in both hands and pa.s.sed it through the smoke in a series of circular motions as he droned some ancient words in his native tongue, paying homage to the ayahuasca spirits and beseeching them to protect and guide this traveler on her journey into the dark realms of the Underworld. He raised the cup high above his head a final time and then handed it to Ravenwood.

She wrapped her fingers around the cup but the slight trembling of her hands betrayed her mask of confidence. That mask evaporated as she stared at the thick brown sludge inside the cup. Moving the cup slowly back and forth, the viscous substance rolled lazily from one side to the other, leaving a gritty trail along the inside edges of the container. The movement caused an equally disgusting smell to waft up into her nostrils. Her head jerked back in response.

The shaman offered a sympathetic grin. "It's best if you can take it all down at once." He slid the bucket closer to her side. "Just remember why you are here."

CHAPTER 55.

Ravenwood sucked in a deep breath.

In a desperate effort to force herself over this initial hump and take the plunge into a world from which she might not returnexcept in the form of a mindless sh.e.l.lshe conjured up a vision in her mind. She imagined herself as one of the last remaining contestants on her favorite reality show, Survivor. This was her final challenge. The fate of the entire world was in her hands. If she failed, she'd be voted off the island, everyone would die, and she wasn't about to let that happen.

The fantasy seemed like a reasonable motivator at the moment. Then she realized she couldn't fool herself. Reality TV was more fantasy than reality. What she was about to do was real reality. No script. No lights. No cameras. No first-aid crew waiting on the sidelines. The real motivation was a madman in a hospital bed, thousands of miles away, and the threat of a global Armageddon well beyond the horrors of the apocalyptic visions of St. John.

She raised the cup, tilted her head back, closed her eyes, opened wide and let the horrid sludge slide down her quivering gullet. She gagged as she struggled to gulp it down. The putrid smell of the stuff was nothing compared to the taste, something between spoiled yogurt and fermented prunes.

The bitter a.s.sault on her senses caused her to shudder. She dropped the cup, grabbed the bucket and leaned into it, coughing and gagging in a rapid series of dry heaves. "Oh...Jee...sus...G.o.d." The words sputtered out through bubbles of saliva oozing from the corners of her mouth. She tried to spit but it dribbled down her chin. Everything started spinning. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she teetered backward.

Tocho quickly moved behind her and broke her fall. He eased her down onto her back.

Tlacatecolotl dipped a cloth into a bowl of cool water and handed it to Tocho. Tocho gently wiped it across Ravenwood's forehead and cleaned her face. "Are you okay? Hey, Ro? You still with us?"

She gave a nod. "I... think so." Her voice was weak. Her head was reeling. For a moment she saw two Tochos but eventually they merged back into one. She struggled to sit up but she felt like a rag doll filled with a thousand pounds of sand.

Tocho eased her back down again. He took the blanket he'd had wrapped around himself, rolled it up and gently slipped it under her head. He shot a worried glance at Tlacatecolotl.

The Owl Man was looking on with approval. "This is good," he said. "A raven with the heart of a warrior. Where she's going, she'll need it."

Twenty minutes pa.s.sed. Ravenwood remained on her back. The initial rush of nausea diminished to almost nothing. But something was wrong. She looked up at Tlacatecolotl. "Nothing's happening," she muttered with a confused look. "How long before it... Oh... Oh... Something's... happening... Oh-h-h... Jesus..." An anxiety reflex rolled through her like an arctic wave causing her to s.h.i.+ver violently. A moment later, her body temperature rose as if she were in a sauna. Beads of sweat began to form on her brow. The thatched ceiling of the hut was turning clockwise, slowly at first, gradually gathering momentum like the carousel at Monkeys.h.i.+ne's. She heard a woman's voice... singing... softly... somewhere in the distance. Hush little baby, don't say a word...Papa's gonna buy you a mocking... "Momma?"

Tlacatecolotl produced a ceremonial rattle and began shaking it in a way that it made a continuous, hypnotic, hissing sound. He chanted softly in a high-pitched drone, invoking the spirits of the sacred ayahuasca. The ancient words filled the air, asking the spirits to guide the raven warrior on her journey, at least as far as they were able to go. He knew there would be a point beyond which they could not continue to travel with her and then she would be on her own.

Ravenwood's gla.s.sy eyes glistened in the firelight as she stared at the spinning carousel ceiling.

The Owl Man leaned over and touched two fingers to her forehead. He traced out an invisible sign of protection upon her brow and when he withdrew his hand, her eyes were closed. She was set adrift into a sea of darkness.

CHAPTER 56.

Ravenwood's etheric body drifted weightlessly, descending further and further down into the dimensionless void. The feeling was at first pleasant, intoxicating. Am I dreaming...? Abruptly, the pleasantness turned to terror as another possibility crept in. Am I dead...?

Then she heard something, a familiar but m.u.f.fled sound, coming from somewhere near by. She strained to identify the sound but it seemed to be gradually fading into the distance. Then, just before it was completely gone, she recognized it. The shaman's rattle. At that moment she remembered what had happened, where she was and why she was there.

A sudden movement captured her attention. A shapeless, luminescence was appearing out of nowhere. She watched as it coalesced into a glowing white orb the size of a soccer ball. Then another and another, until nine of them were present. The floating globes of light moved in unison to within an arm's reach and somehow she knew they were the Guides, the ayahuasca spirits, each a representative of the Bolontiku, the nine G.o.ds of the ancient Maya. In spite of her better judgment, but lured by her sense of fascination, she reached out to touch one but it instantly moved away, retreating into the darkness. Then, just as quickly, it returned. In the next instant, the orbs had her surrounded and the energy they transmitted was palpable.

Suddenly, she realized she and the orbs were moving, as a single unit, downward through the ocean of darkness toward the nine formidable realms of the Underworld.

Ravenwood's consciousness spiraled like a whirlwind out of control. The Bolontiku were transporting her through the first eight of the nine levels of the Underworld at a furious pace. The speed of the descent was an act of mercy, bypa.s.sing the terrors that would otherwise have tormented and tested her each step of the way.

A seemingly endless barrage of images, fantastical and terrorizing, swirled past her in a dizzying array. Pulsating colors washed over her in waves and then spiraled away into the eternal blackness. Grotesque, unnamable creatures sailed by. Giant serpents hissed at her with darting tongues, their gaping mouths revealing treacherous, gleaming fangs. Tangled hordes of humans, naked and wailing, limbs flailing, reached out for her with pleading eyes before some invisible force violently pulled them back and whisked them away like leaves in a storm. Her senses were on fire, her mind barely able to withstand the surreal a.s.sault. Further and further into the nightmare she descended like an elevator in an uncontrolled freefall to h.e.l.l. Then, suddenly, a dead stop.