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And he realized as he collided with the first stones of the steps that this was the vision his father had seen—his failure.
Jacob’s neck broke halfway down.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
JAGUAR TEMPLE
CALAKMUL BIOSPHERE RESERVE
January 10
Roth watched Calakmul totter over the edge of the pyramid. He knew he’d been more than lucky so far. He’d heard Suki scream his name, though, and all that he could think of was getting to his daughter. Had she been recaptured by the jaguar priests? Who was firing the rifles down below? How was he going to escape the warriors who remained atop the pyramid with the other hostages? The kem äm was gone—somehow—but they were still stronger and more adept. Armed too, in all likelihood.
He and Suki weren’t safe—far from it—but at least Jacob Calakmul was dead. The man who’d orchestrated this nightmare was gone.
Roth rolled off the edge of the round sacrificial altar, landing on his hands and knees. A warrior was already springing toward him, gripping the wooden handle of a deadly Maya sword. Roth couldn’t remember the name of the weapon, but he knew it was powerful enough to saw a horse in half. The conquistadors had learned that the hard way. They were made of wooden paddles, about the size of a cricket bat, but with shards of obsidian along both edges.
“Help us!” one of the hostages shouted.
If Roth had been more like the Rock, he could have punched his way out of the situation. Fight scenes were fun to write in novels, but fiction couldn’t save him here—if it came down to a physical fight, the odds were not stacked in his favor. He had to be smart. He needed a weapon of his own.
As he backed away from the altar, his foot bumped into the obsidian dagger. Had Calakmul dropped it? The warrior vaulted at him, swinging the obsidian sword in an arc that could decapitate him in a single swipe.
Roth dropped fast, feeling the wind through his hair as the weapon was swung above his head. He grabbed for the dagger, feeling for the edge, and then discovered the handle. He picked it up by the sharp edge, then backpedaled away while the warrior rushed him again, shouting angrily, with rage in his eyes.
The kem äm had all been sloughed away. Only the moonlight helped him see. He was afraid he’d stumble off the side of the pyramid if he went too far backward without looking, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the warrior. He evaded another slashing motion, but he knew he’d only get lucky for so long.
He brought his hand around and whipped the dagger at the warrior. In high school, he’d gone to Scout camp several years in a row. He’d even been a merit badge counselor his last summer of his senior year. Knife throwing was something all the boys had learned. And Roth had been pretty good.
The obsidian dagger sailed from his hand and embedded in the warrior’s chest. The man had wooden shoulder pads as part of his armor, but his chest was open. He’d always had the kem äm to protect him. Not this time.
A look of shock and pain came over his face. He stopped his advance, staring down at the hilt protruding from his chest.
Roth didn’t hesitate. He rushed forward and wrenched the Maya sword from his hand. The warrior gasped and then fell down. Dead.
There was no time for him to process what had happened before another scream of challenge deafened him. At least the space was too narrow for their guards to rush them. Each prisoner had had two warriors guarding him. One of Roth’s guys was down, and now the other came sailing at him. Roth wished he had a Glock. He could have ended the fight in an instant.
Roth stepped forward, using his own blade to counter the first. The two weapons cracked into each other, and Roth felt a jolt of pain shoot up his arm. The warrior shifted, reversing the thrust, and pivoted on his heel, shifting the attack to his other side. Roth deflected the blow and then rushed forward, pressing his other palm against the flat of the paddle, and struck the other man in the chest. He wasn’t trying to slice him—the weapon would have cut off his own hand if he’d gripped it by the edge. No, Roth wanted to apply leverage and force. And when he collided with the warrior, he shoved him back until he hit the sacrificial altar, which tripped him.
The warrior fell backward, grunting in surprise. Roth swung his blade over his own head, driving the sharp edge down to finish the man. But the warrior was too quick and rolled to the side to escape.
Instead, Roth cut off his arm. The arm that held his sword.
Roth stared in surprise at the severed limb, hearing the warrior’s shriek of pain as he rolled aside and left it behind.
A foot struck Roth in the back of his knee. He hadn’t heard or seen anyone else. He felt his leg spasm with pain. Someone grabbed him by the hair from behind and torqued his neck back, exposing his throat.
Roth swung his sword up over his head and felt the obsidian hit wood and stick there. He tried to wrench it free, but it was stuck. The man behind him flailed, his grip on Roth’s hair loosening.
Then Roth saw another warrior, one opposite the altar, plant his foot and level a javelin at him. It was the same kind of javelin that Roth had used to puncture the inflatable boats all those months ago. He tried to shift, but the javelin came too fast. He felt it pierce his chest, just within his lower ribs. Pain and shock struck him simultaneously. He couldn’t breathe. He’d just been skewered.
The man grappling him from behind dug his fingers into Roth’s hair again and hoisted him by the roots. Roth groaned, his leg muscles turning to mush. He couldn’t stand up anymore and felt blood flowing down his shirt. The warrior brandished a Maya sword. Was this the same man who’d threatened Lucas’s life when he’d climbed up on the roof? Images of the twins flashed through his mind.
More gunfire echoed through the night sky. Whatever was happening, they were too late for Roth. He tried to lift his sword again, but his fingers were numb. He felt the hilt slip away from his hand and heard the blade clatter noisily on the stone.
Light exploded like a supernova.
It blinded Roth. Had his head just been cut off? Was this what it felt like after a visit with a guillotine?
