Innocent Blood
Teiuc blinked slowly and, wrinkling her nose, became aware of the stink from the men surrounding her. Their painted bodies and feathered headpieces signaled their stature amongst the temple guards, but she didn’t care, Teiuc wasn’t afraid of them.
She feared nothing anymore, what was the point? Hatred burned in her soul, and she loved no one, cared for nothing, and despised them all. At first the cold of nothingness had been just a dull ache in her chest where her heart had once been, but like a cancer it had spread.
Like the soreness that came with the progression of old age, it worked its way from her chest into her very essence and through her body, and she let it. Welcomed it like a lover. From this nothingness she would draw strength and the knowledge that more would be lost at the end of this day than just the life of another innocent child.
All around, the cloying scent of maleness disturbed her. Dressed in the finest of feathers and cloth, their lean bronzed bodies shone with sweat, their biceps glistening in the heat. The women of her village looked cooler in knee length, deep green skirts dyed from the leaves of the Auahan plant. Curling her lip, she watched them rustle softly past her, their stink assaulting her as well.
“Fools!” Biting back her loathing, swallowing her hatred, Teiuc clamped her eyes shut and waited patiently.
Jumping as a sudden cheer went up around her, the sounds of jubilation bouncing off the stone walls of the ancient temple, she winced as her body betrayed her the smallest of sobs.
“No!” Rough hands grabbed her arms and dragged her through the frenzied crowd to the bottom of a set of giant steps leading up to the stone altar. This was Teiuc’s right, this was her place. Blinking slowly, she stood straight-backed in the place of honor where all the proud parents stood as their children took their place amongst the chosen of the God, Tlaloc.
It started softly at first, a whisper prickling incessantly at the edges of her mind. In a mantra, the small crowd chanted Tlaloc’s name over and over, the volume rising incrementally with each word. Teiuc’s head pounded, she was no stranger to this madness, she’d heard this too many times before, and had been a willing participant. Slamming her eyes shut in a futile attempt to block the noise, Teiuc tried to cover her ears but strong hands just gripped her even harder. Even that small mercy was denied to her.
Teiuc’s mask dropped. The carefully schooled look she’d been trying to display on the outside crumbled like rock as memories of her children scrambled across her mind.
One by one her babes’ lively animated faces, so full of life, were replaced with the mask of horror from their violent deaths. Her children who would never know the god they were dying for. She heard their cries again, beseeching her, calling out to her. Hyperventilating, eyes wide with shock, they kicked desperately, their faces begging for their mother.
One swift motion and it was done.
The lives of her laughing, brown-eyed children were taken. No more laughter, no more kisses, no more joy. The blood that sprayed from their tiny bodies drenched the attendants and soaked the altar, its sickly sweet smell whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Wild eyed, their faces contorted with madness, the people roared and sank to their knees while the priest raised the still beating heart high in the air.
Pulled back to the present by bile burning her throat, Teiuc dragged in a ragged breath as a hand grabbed her hair and pulled her head backwards forcing her to look up at the altar. The bright glare of the suns momentarily blinded her and she blinked furiously till her eyes adjusted.
Standing atop the dais were five men. Four of them were partially clad, their upper bodies bare and coated with oils and paint. Small feathers, the tips brightly colored, were woven through long hair that flowed over their muscular shoulders. Standing behind the four men was a fifth. Head and shoulders taller, his ornate headwear and long feathered cloak stood him apart from the rest. Despite the turquoise mask covering his face, Teiuc could easily recognize the man.
Matlal.
Her dark eyes stared at Matlal. Anger, revulsion, hatred all vying for dominance across her tear streaked face. She had loved this man all her life. He was her bonded husband since birth, the High Priest of her small world, and the father of her babes. After each ritual, after another one of her babes had been sacrificed by his hand, she had forgiven him. It was the Aztec way; she accepted this.
Face contorting with hatred, Teiuc knew the well of her forgiveness had just run dry. To sacrifice was to give life; this is what she had believed, but no more. Never again would she watch a child slaughtered.
Teiuc bowed her head, her hatred needing to be hidden. This was the way it was for the Yahtepec people and it was a tradition that had long since lost its meaning in the passages of time. The ritual of human sacrifice was another such tradition so ingrained in the Yahtepec that no one ever questioned the reasoning behind it.
Tlaloc, the god of rain and fertility, demanded sacrifices to ensure plentiful rainfall for the coming season’s crops. His wife, the beautiful Goddess of the Water, Chalchiutlicue, required no such homage. She was the giver of life and protector of children. In Teiuc’s mind, she could see no reason for their bonding and yet she prayed with passion to Chalchiutlicue, prayed the rains would fall and the rivers would burst.
Greatly feared by the Aztecs, it was well known Tlaloc preferred his sacrifices to be drowned. No quick death, they would be subjected to the cold terror of a river in its winter thaw. Held down to almost the point of death, they would be hauled onto the banks, their tears collected as part of the ritual and submerged again. Whoever believed drowning was a peaceful death had never met Tlaloc.
Teiuc had no such preference. Whatever reasoning there was behind the practice was lost when it became an act of blood lust and desperation. Her once strong belief system had been systematically torn down by grief and the gnawing realization that no matter how many children had met their death in Tlaloc’s name, the Yahtepec people were no closer to appeasing him.
Despite all of this, Teiuc had prayed for rain. Death by drowning was a far better option to what awaited their children on top of the altar. What meager food she had spare, Teiuc left as an offering at the temple to Chalchiutlicue.
Fearing this wouldn’t be enough, she’d walked for a day to find the flowers of the Lhatzu. Favoured by the goddess, its aromatic bud was only in bloom for seven days in the summer. The walk had been long, her shoulders had blistered in the scorching heat from the twin suns, but the Lhatzu flowers had been worth the effort. Or so she thought.
Chalchiutlicue wasn’t listening though. The rains never came, but her husband had.
Teiuc’s memory of that last evening spent with Itzli was fractured. Buoyed with assurance from Matlal that Itzli would not be chosen at the naming ceremony, she stayed home to prepare a meal of Hetcul stew. Matlal had promised her no more of their children would be given to Tlaloc. That they had served their god well and provided more noble sacrifice than was required.
Heart heavy with her past losses, Teiuc swept Itzli into her arms and tickled the bare flesh on his tummy. Giggling with glee, his soft brown eyes bright with the joy of living, Itzli tossed his head back and kicked his chubby legs in play, his voice floating through the air like song to his mother’s ears.
The evening had been enjoyable. Upon Matlal’s return from the naming ceremony, he’d cradled Itzli in his broad arms and twirled around the shelter with him. The food, though overly spiced to make up for its natural blandness, was well received and shared, and the wine Matlal’s mother had made last summer was strong and heady with the aroma of dried Hetcul leaves.
Teiuc was happy and tired. Sure the worry of the naming ceremony was the cause of her weariness, she quickly cleared away the remnants of dinner and bid Matlal goodnight. Settling down on her sleeping mat, an arm curled around her beautiful Itzli, she found herself quickly drifting to sleep.
Teiuc woke with a start. Head throbbing with the after effect of too much wine, she struggled to sit up. Scrubbing a shaky hand across her face, and shivering despite the warmth inside the shelter, she reached out to wake Itzli.
His sleeping mat was empty.
Scrambling to her feet, panic ripping through her very being, Teiuc searched every corner of the shelter. With no sign of Itzli, she pulled back the privacy screen and stepped out into the courtyard, ignoring the harsh suns beating down on her semi-naked body.
Pushing through the crowds, Teiuc searched with a desperation tinged by mania. People moved out of her way, some held their ground, but still she searched, fear in her dark eyes. The square was busy and lively, but she knew better; this was no market day, this was a terrible day.
The aroma of the rich xental oil was thick, and her mind swam with its intoxicating scent.
Feathers, their tips died in the greens and blues of Tlaloc and Chalchiutlicue, woven so neatly through the seas of hair, seemed to fly at her from all directions. Pushing her way through the throng, Teiuc called for Itzli, searching the wall of humanity that clamored past. Then she saw it, the look of anguish from women she had known all her life. They knew her child was marked for death.
Despite everything, despite all the promises, the sacrifices she’d made, Matlal had taken her baby. Itzli was gone. Sinking to her knees, Teiuc struggled for breath, her heart wanted to beat out of her chest. Ignoring the stares of the milling crowd, she sobbed her rage and frustration. Looking up, she watched the villagers hurry to the temple of Tlaloc. Everyone would be there to witness her grief. Wrapped up in the fervour of the ritual and their unwavering faith in their gods, Teiuc knew she was alone in her loss and grief.
Her gods had abandoned her, and with a stab of pain, she knew she’d abandoned them as well.
Making her way to the temple as if in a trance, Teiuc pushed her way towards the front of the crowd. Squinting, her hand raised against the sun’s glare, she saw a small figure ushered onto the platform.
“Itzli!”
The chanting voices around her fell into hushed silence as all eyes watched the tiny figure shuffle in his overlong robes. Head down, the small child stumbled and tripped as he took the final walk of his very short life. Soon, Teiuc would be forced to bear witness to Itzli’s savage death, sacrificed in the name of a faceless god she now detested. Arms aching to hold her baby, Teiuc’s eyes never wavered.
The little boy, so used to love and tenderness, was adored by his mother and loved by his family, but today none of that mattered. Stumbling, Itzli sobbed for his mother. Instinctively lurching forward, Teiuc felt her arms yanked painfully behind her back. Nothing would interfere with the child’s sacrifice.
The harder she struggled, the crueler her captors became. “Be quiet, woman!” The rough voice ghosted her ear; its sharp tone leaving her in no doubt that any further outbursts would be met with even deadlier force. With a transfixed horror, Teiuc watched her husband raise the dagger, and with a cry, she saw it plunge downward.
Around her the cries of the crowd drowned out her screams.
“Well this is… interesting.”
Daniel Jackson looked up at the sky, and wincing, adjusted his clip-on sunshades while pulling his boonie hat down over his forehead. The twin suns of PR6-991 shone down relentlessly on the planet’s hard baked earth, creating shimmering mirages in the distance. The planet was a desert and its terrain inhospitable and dangerous. Everywhere, the harshness of the world was obvious.
Dry and withered trees, branches long stripped of foliage, dotted the area, and Daniel was vaguely reminded of a scene from a horror movie. With a grimace, he sighed and muttered sourly, “Wow, Jack is so going to love this place.”
Raising his hand to shield his eyes, Daniel shivered; a ghost walking over his grave disturbed his peace. “Okay, that’s odd.”
Hearing the telltale movements of SG-1 behind him, he listened as the familiar voices floated over to him, and figured they were setting off to scout the immediate area. Turning and jogging over, Daniel felt sweat trickle down his face while he patiently waited for his orders. Finely tuned to the protocols of off-world missions, SG-1 knew what they needed to do long before they walked through the gate.
Scuffing his booted foot across the dusty ground, Daniel frowned at the poor quality of the soil. Looking over at Sam, he shrugged and said, “Doesn’t look like this place has seen rain in a good while.”
Squinting against the sun, Sam glanced over and nodded, a single bead of sweat trickling down her cheek. “Atmospheric sensors on the UAV confirmed very low levels of water vapor in the atmosphere. Combined with a strong prevalence of high pressure systems, this planet is definitely headed towards becoming a desert in a few centuries.” With a quick frown, her fingers deftly dancing over the pad of the small palm pilot she held, Sam added with a sigh, “Orbiting so close to dual suns isn’t helping either.”
Leaving Sam to her analysis, Daniel unclipped his backpack and let it slide to the ground. Rolling the crick from his shoulder, he focused his attention on the small statue to the left of the DHD.
“Hello!”
Made from grey stone, Daniel figured from some local quarry, the statue stood about two feet tall on a raised rounded pedestal base. Pocked and chipped, its distinctively feminine features were still recognizable despite the tyranny of time and foul weather. The statue had probably been there for centuries, and the archaeologist wondered briefly against what or whom she had stood guard.
Reaching out to caress the shoulders and bust of the figure, Daniel squinted, trying to read its etchings. Small lines of pictographs, barely noticeable under the glare of the hot suns, leapt out him. “You’re an Aztec,” he whispered.
“I thought you already knew that.”
“Jack!”
“Yes?” Jack clasped a hand firmly on Daniel’s shoulder and peered over at the figurine. “Like I said, I thought you already knew that.”
“I, ah, I did. The MALP image wasn’t as detailed as I’d hoped, and the damage to the surface didn’t allow for an accurate identification.”
“Right.” Jack let his hand drop from Daniel’s shoulder, and bending over, peered directly into the statue’s face. “So, who is he?”
“She.”
“What?”
“It’s a she. Chalchiutlicue, to be exact.”
“I’m not even going try and repeat that one.” Standing up, Jack rocked back on his heels, his P-90 resting snugly in the crook of his right arm. “Damn ugly if you ask me.”
“Actually, Jack, she was considered to be one of the most beautiful of the Aztec goddesses.”
“Well,” Jack huffed. “Just goes to show they had no taste whatsoever.”
Casting a cynical look at his friend, Daniel resisted the urge to argue back and forth, deciding to investigate the overgrown pedestal. Brushing aside the dead weeds and brambles, he murmured, “Whoever lived here used this as a shrine at some point. I’d say it hasn’t been visited in a long time. Odd really.”
Running a hand across his brow, Jack flicked the sweat onto the ground, frowning as it sizzled away in the blistering heat. “Why is that?”
“Well…” Throwing Jack a sympathetic look, Daniel pushed his boonie back and unclipped his shades. “Unless they’ve all died off in the last few months, it’s highly unusual for the Aztecs to leave their shrines in such a state.”
“Like an offence to their god?”
“Exactly.” Freeing the pedestal base from its debris, Daniel took out a small brush and began sweeping around the bottom, running a finger lightly behind the brush as he went.
“Looking for something?”
“I was hoping to find…” Leaning in closer, Daniel could just make out a faint band of script ringing the base of the object. Slipping into lecture mode, ignoring the soft groan from his team-mate, Daniel tapped the base with triumph. Whirling around, his face creased into a grin. “Gotcha!”
“Got what?”
“Sometimes, depending on the ruler at the time, the Aztecs used to leave a blessing around the base of their most sacred shrines.” A small frown marring his face, Daniel rocked back on his haunches and sighed. “Most of the pictographs have worn away. I’m guessing from exposure to the elements or a high acid content in the soil.”
“Or maybe it’s just been here a long time.”
“Yes, helpful, Jack… thanks.”
Jumping effortlessly to his feet, Daniel placed his brush in his vest and dusted his hand against his pants. Turning around in a neat 360° arc, his expression almost comically quizzical, he stared at the gate and the surrounding area, all the while drumming his fingers on his thigh. “Mm, now that really is odd.”
“Odd?”
“Tlaloc.”
“Okay.” Jack let out a tolerant sigh. “T, who?”
“Tlaloc. Chalchiuhtlicue and Tlaloc were husband and wife. Quite often where you found a statue of one, you’d find one of the other as well, but there’s nothing here.”
Tilting his cap back, Jack’s gaze wandered over the vista. “I got nothing but dust and dead trees.”
“Yeah, me too,” Daniel muttered, his words tinged with worry. Something didn’t add up and the more he thought, the more it bothered him. With one, there was always the other.
“Right, so why don’t you sound so happy about that?” Circling Daniel, and gazing harder around him, Jack moved in closer. “Daniel?”
Bristling under Jack’s stare and stepping backwards, Daniel shook his head. “Jack, stop rounding me up, there’s nothing here but us and a million flying bugs.” Casting his gaze back at the weatherworn statue, Daniel frowned, “Tlaloc was known in Aztec mythology as the god of rain and fertility.”
“Fertility, you say?” Jack tapped the side of his P-90 playfully. “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
“He was also known for his floods and droughts, and need for human sacrifices, particularly children. Parents were known to drown their children to appease him.”
Jack turned his gaze back to the statue, eyebrows raised, and swallowed visibly. “Sacrifices?”
“Jack, the early Aztecs were a pretty blood-lusty lot. Human sacrifice was a way of life for them.”
“Not much of a life, if you ask me.”
“It was all they knew.”
“I’m just saying.”
“O’Neill!”
Teal’c tinny voiced boomed out from the radio on Jack’s vest, and taken unaware, Daniel couldn’t help shuddering. Jack tilted his head and raising his eyebrow, mouthed, “Its Teal’c!” Grinning at Daniel’s perfect eye roll, he smothered a snort and keyed his radio, “What ya got, buddy?”
“We are not alone. A small band of people are approaching from the south.”
Daniel watched as Jack visibly tensed. Instantly alert, his hand tightening around his P-90, Jack snapped his head back and forth, finding his bearings. Taking his cue and slipping his own hand down towards the Berretta, Daniel paused mid-action, the urge to arm himself giving way to playing devils advocate in the face of a first contact.
“Carter, what’s your position?”
“Coming up on your left, sir, fifty feet.”
Squinting against the glare, his snap on shades momentarily forgotten, Daniel spotted movement through a grove of dead gnarled trees, and with a quick tap on Jack’s shoulder, he pointed towards the approaching visitors. “Err, over there!”
“Behind me, Daniel.”
“Jack?”
Face schooled, a finger raised in the air, Jack put paid to Daniel’s now silent protest. “You’ll get to do your intergalactic traveler routine when I’m sure they’re not planning on using us for target practice.”
The tell-tale sound of boots on the dry ground behind him told Daniel the rest of his team had returned, and with a barely perceptible nod, Teal’c and Sam moved to flank him, their weapons primed and at the ready.
Gaze darting from the tip of Teal’c staff weapon to the small band of natives now clearing a rippling mirage, Daniel bit back a witty retort threatening to trip off his tongue. The words “We come in peace, shoot to kill” suddenly stuck in an annoying loop in his mind, but placing his hand back on his Berretta, his relentless training finally won. Watch and listen, time enough for questions and answers later. Jack was right. Friend or foe was the sixty four thousand dollar question.
Watching as Sam and Teal’c slid smoothly into position, Jack kept his tone low and direct. “Heads up, kids.”
Walking through the rippling mirage, a small group of warriors strode into the clearing near the gate. Dark skinned, lean and well muscled, they were naked from the waist up, and oozed a predatory presence. Their skin painted in a vivid blue, wearing skirted waistbands, the warriors looked at the invaders with interest.
The tent city was vast, spilling chaotically from two stone-hewed temples. An oxy-moron of beauty and starkness, it was set against an arid wasteland, and with a pang of sadness and regret, Daniel conceded it reminded him of Nagada.
Shielding his eyes from the glaring suns, Daniel looked over the bustling vista and marveled at the view. Sitting upon a barren knoll, the pyramidal shaped temples seemed to ripple with life as the setting suns dipped behind them. Deep orange and purple colors from the walls bled onto the city below, washing it like a living canvas. Daniel sucked in a deep breath, and with the pang of Abydos’s loss suddenly awakened in him, he marvelled at the city’s simple beauty.
Surrounded on all sides by their Aztec hosts, Daniel kept his emotions in check, not letting the familiarity of the setting draw him away from the uneasiness he’d felt ever since Luc and his entourage had intercepted them at the gate.
A growing discomfort gnawed at Daniel, and stealing a sideways glance, he checked to see if Jack had picked up on his uneasiness. Jack’s face was grim, and Daniel figured the easy manipulation of his team bothered him. Subtly and with stealth, the Aztec warriors insinuated themselves between them, and glaring, Daniel knew it was a bold move.
Despite his extensive knowledge of Aztec history, these people were aliens, and he wondered if their culture was diverse enough not to panic. Looking at the warriors, resplendent with short bows and brightly tipped arrows, made Daniel’s stomach churn.
The musty smell of spice permeated the air, and sniffing, Jack’s eyes began to water. With a longing look at the mud hut’s only door, he began to formulate a fresh air escape plan. Getting past his minder, though, could prove problematic.
Uneasiness settled in Jack’s stomach like a mouthful of bad milk, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a lot more to their new friends than what Daniel had discovered. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much. The walk into the shanty village had been hot and long, though the locals took it in their stride. Jack wasn’t surprised in the least. His affinity with chilly Minnesota days was often at odds with Daniel’s love of all things hot and sandy. Acclimatization was the key.
A kaleidoscope of brightly painted bodies, feathered heads all bobbing with supposed excitement, greeted them along the winding path through the village. Daniel was in his element. The earlier apprehension he’d felt had eased somewhat, and with language being no barrier—English appeared to be a universal constant—Jack looked on as his friend chatted amicably on a range of subjects from herbal medicines to religion. All of which bored Jack to distraction.
And there were plenty of distractions.
Bare-chested seemed to be the norm here. Male and female. Jack knew nothing of Earth’s Aztec culture beyond what he read in magazines and what little information Daniel provided him. Of course, that depended on whether he actually remembered it or not. Choosing the ‘dumbed down’ version of most of Daniel’s long winded and overly animated lectures, Jack had a tendency to only take on board information relevant to the mission.
With very little data available on PR6-991, Jack was confident his archaeologist had no idea that bare-chested-ness extended to the women of Yahtepec as well as the men. Comparative social customs aside, Jack found the whole situation mildly distracting and suddenly developed a curious interest in the roof thatching methods of the Aztecs. Perhaps, along with an eye-watering version of the modern-day room freshener, the Yahtepec people could add their roof technology to Daniel’s small list of items-of-interest.
Jack pulled his cap down across his eyes, and peered beneath it, quiet and unobtrusive. He looked at Teal’c. Straight backed, hands clutched behind him, his face was unreadable. Hmm, Jack thought, nothing different there. Twisting his neck, still looking lazy and disinterested, Jack stared at his 2IC. Carter’s face was red, and beads of sweat trailed down her cheeks. Hot and bothered, she still watched her surroundings, ever the good soldier.
The last of his team mates caused Jack the most consternation. Arms flying, Daniel was enamored with his latest audience and Jack wondered wryly if Daniel’s mind was either his best friend or his worst enemy. Today, in this primitive hut, insects buzzing and the smell of fermenting fruit filling the air, O’Neill decided it was Daniel’s best friend.
“Jack!” Speak of the devil. How did the kid do that? One moment he’s sitting like the chief storyteller at a bonfire, and the next he’s standing in front of him.
“Daniel?” Jack looked across at Luc and the other Yahtepec, all paint, feathers and smiles, then back at his friend. “Something you need to share with the rest of us?”
“This is just amazing! We’ve seen so many examples of displaced cultures deviating from their Earth equivalents that I was expecting the same here.”
Patting the space next to him, Jack shuffled over to make room. “And you’re not seeing that here?” he ventured with a smile.
“Not really, no, well, some traditions have died off over time, and obvious environmental issues aside—”
“Aht!” Eyebrows raised and finger in the air, Jack put paid to Daniel’s building rant.
Daniel put on a look of resignation, and with a shrug and roll of his eyes, carried on regardless. “My point is, the modern Aztecs of today—”
“The Mexicans?” Jack smiled. He liked to think he knew his history.
Eyebrows raised, Daniel peered at Jack over the top of his glasses. “Can I finish?” He said, bumping Jack’s shoulder as he slid down next to him. “The Aztec society of today has pretty much lost its cultural ties to the past. They maintain their language and some of their religious beliefs but that’s about it.”
Mouth open, Jack scrubbed his chin back and forth with one hand. “You know, this is all good stuff, but what does it mean for us? Cultural imperatives aside,” he added mockingly.
Daniel blinked and flicked away a bead of sweat from his eye. “Ah, it’s interesting?”
“Interesting? Right!” Jack smacked his thigh and stood up, cringing as his BDU pants stuck to his bottom. Damn this blasted heat. “Carter, Teal’c, pack it up, kids, we’re heading home.”
“We can’t just leave!”
Jack shrugged on his pack, hating the added warmth against his already overheated skin. “Daniel, they’ve got nothing of value to trade and you’ve already admitted the culture is not that much different from the one we had on Earth.”
“Sam.” Daniel stood up. Grim faced and eyes pleading, he waved at his team mate. “The Yahtepec have this plant, it’s the only thing they can grow under these conditions. According to Luc, it has incredible medicinal properties.”
Mouth open, about to put an end to Daniel’s plea, a flurry of movement caught Jack’s attention and he zeroed in on Luc. Head bobbing in a lively discussion, the Aztec leader herded his men to the front of the hut, effectively blocking the team’s only route of escape.
Eyes flashing his concern at the military half of his team, Jack clapped Daniel on the shoulder and steered him toward the exit. “Carter can get her samples and we’ll bid these lovely people goodbye.”
As if on cue, Luc and his followers turned and suddenly pressed all around them, their spirited and animated faces now flush with concern. Jack couldn’t give a damn. Hot, tired, and smelling like a rancid mastadge, he had no compunction about pushing his way through the crowd to fresh air and the path back to the Stargate.
“Jack!” Daniel shrugged off Jack’s grip and turned to face him, eyes icy cold and face grim with determination. “I told Luc we’d be staying for their evening meal. They have herbs and other medicines they’re prepared to share, on top of those ‘cultural imperatives’ I’d like to learn more about.”
A finger strumming the side of his P-90, Jack’s temper, like the heat inside the inferno of a hut, was slowly creeping past boiling point. “Well, un-tell them, Daniel,” he said with the barest thread of self control and drawing out Daniel’s name deliberately. “There’s nothing here we need to stay for, and should Carter’s samples turn up anything worth further investigation, I’m sure the General will approve a return visit. Right now,” Jack gave Daniel a firm shove towards the door, “I’m hot, feeling hemmed in, and in desperate need of a long shower and a beer, so make good with the chief and let us get the heck outta here.”
A commotion at the end of the hut put paid to Jack’s rant and he reflexively tightened the grip on his weapon. A cutting glance at Teal’c and Carter had his team closing ranks around Daniel, and he could sense their sharp minds already searching for another escape route.
Feathered heads bobbed in unison, and with an almost festive like cheer, the small crowd of Yahtepec men parted to let four young women through. Faces impassive, long black hair flowing over their full breasts, they each held a large platter above their heads. Heaped with some type of steaming food Jack had no hope of identifying, the women swung the platters down and settled them on a nearby table.
With a silent groan and sigh of resignation, Jack bit back his anger and flashed a ‘we’ll be discussing this later’ look at his youngest team mate. The slow shrug of shoulders and grimaced half smile told him Daniel had received his message loud and clear.
Brightly colored earthenware jugs joined the platters on the table, and Jack stared at the cup thrust into his hand with some suspicion. The pungent clove scented wine tickled his nostrils and Jack flashed the server his best ‘thank-you’ smile, biting back a low groan as yet more villagers filled into the already cramped space.
The feast was a meager affair. Plates of thinly sliced red meat were dotted around the long serving table, their juices pooling and congealing quickly in the steaming heat of the hut.
Cutlery and napkins unheard of here, Jack picked up a portion, and with a feigned smile to appease the watching Luc, took a small bite. The meat was sweet but stringy, and as Jack was about to swallow, he caught sight of a rat scuttling across an overhead rafter and pushing its way through the straw roof. With a cough and roll of his eyes, he forced down the portion and wondered belatedly where they obtained their food sources.
Teal’c and Carter were seated off to his left and seemed to be just as cautious about the meal as he was. Sam appeared to have spotted the rats in the rafter, her gaze constantly flickering back and forth from her plate—largely untouched—to a point high up in the roof. Only Daniel appeared in his element, once again stuck in a lively conversation with Luc, he tucked into his meal like he was dining at an all-you-can-eat buffet, the company seemingly a bigger distraction than the ill tasting meal and twenty sets of rodent eyes spying on them from above.
The only thing Jack could agree on was the wine. Its heady scent was easily forgotten over the course of several refills, and though Jack was always cautious about drinking anything off world, whatever was in the smooth brew was very easy on the pallet. Obligatory toasts to friendships and possible trades over—though for god-knows-what Jack wasn’t sure—and he could feel his mask of concentration starting to slip. Blinking slowly, and taking a long assessing look at Sam and Teal’c, he cursed silently.
They all looked drunk. No. Drugged.
Staring down at the cup and then across at Luc, he caught the other man’s attention just as Daniel was slumping sideways into his firm embrace. The welcoming smile was gone, replaced with a lip curling grin. Hands roughly pulling at his shoulders and forcing him from his seat and onto the ground, Jack tried to fight back but failed. Limbs numb and consciousness fading, the last thing he saw was Daniel being hefted onto the shoulders of a warrior and taken from the hut.
Malinche eyed the latest supplicant with a look of satisfaction and anticipation. With the ever increasing long gaps between sacrificial rites, she hoped fervently Tlaloc would be pleased with this offering. Few people visited the Yahtepec. Their isolation and poor resources, hardly worthy of even the most desperate of passing traders, left them a needy people at the mercy of malevolent gods. Gnawing hunger and desperation burned in their bellies, so whenever travelers arrived through Tlaloc’s door, there was always cautious celebration.
Cursed by her inability to bear children, Malinche considered her work at the temple of the utmost importance; after all, there was more than one way to serve her god. As was her stature amongst the temple workers, she wore the responsibility of caring for new supplicants like a badge of honor, and took pride in her work.
Her latest charge was a handsome man, but as a child, he would be truly beautiful. Eyes the color of the sky and hair glinted with gold, Malinche was sure Tlaloc would look positively upon this sacrifice, forgetting he was not of the Yahtepec. Holding the vial of mocuepa tightly in her hand, she stood over him, pulling him forward by his clothing.
Groaning his displeasure at being disturbed, the man tried to push her away. “Wha’s ‘h’ppen’ng?”
Malinche would have none of it. The sleeping drug still held the man fast in its grip, and taking advantage of his confusion, she pulled him forward by his hair. Twisting under her hold, his head thrashing back and forth, he gagged as she forced the bitter liquid between his teeth. Grunting, she shoved him back against the wall, cursing as he spat the mocuepa back into her face, stinging her eyes.
“You!” Gripping his chin in her hand, she forced his mouth open and poured down the rest of the contents of the vial, clamping a hand over his mouth, forcing him to swallow. Within moments his struggles ceased, and his panic filled eyes closed under the numbing influences of the mocuepa.
Malinche wiped the liquid from her face, and stood back watching as the drug worked its magic. After all these years she was still in awe of its potential as the man’s pain filled body contorted and writhed, growing ever smaller with each passing second.
Nausea wasn’t a feeling Teal’c was especially familiar with. Decades of carrying a symbiote had protected him from a variety of maladies any normal humanoid would have succumbed to. His later reliance on the drug Tretonin, whilst not as effective, was preferable over the death that awaited any Jaffa without a symbiote.
It was the low cadence of unfamiliar voices that stirred Teal’c from his slumber, and he wondered idly why he was sleeping in the company of others. Prying his eyes open briefly, he could make out hazy figures moving across his line of sight. Not immediately recognizing his surroundings, he snapped them shut before anyone noticed he was awake.
They’d been drugged. Memories of the feast filtered somewhat slowly into his sluggish brain, and stilling his now racing breath, he tried to maintain the illusion of being asleep. The voices were louder now. Whoever it was wasn’t bothering to hide the topic of their conversation, and now alert to their predicament, Teal’c keenly listened in.
“I am unsure as to why the mocuepa failed.”
Luc! Teal’c recognized the voice of the Yahtepec leader. A heightened sense of preservation, and the need to know the location of the rest of his team, kept Teal’c from lashing out at his captors. Face schooled, and body appearing lax, Teal’c knew information would be more useful than brute force.
“We can’t worry about that now, Luc. We must dispose of these three before they awaken.” Three? A brief pause in the conversation, and Teal’c could hear the sound of feet scuffing across the dirt floor near his head. “We cannot risk them escaping through Tlaloc’s door and alerting the gods to our failure.”
“There must be something different with them, a reason why the mocuepa didn’t work.”
Teal’c could hear Luc pacing back and forth across the room, his agitation seeming to increase with the speed of his footfalls. “This one,” Luc jabbed at Teal’c's right shoulder with his foot, “bears the mark of some distant evil god.”
“Perhaps he would be a worthy sacrifice to Tlaloc,” the other man suggested, a tinge of anticipation creeping into his voice.
With a grim sense of foreboding Teal’c understood the man’s words. Jaffa knew all about sacrificing to one’s god, and he listened to the misguided words of yet another fanatic with sadness. Forcing a calmness he didn’t feel, he knew this wasn’t the time for such thoughts; he would be needed to rescue his friends.
“Another sign of our continued faith and following of his ways?” the man continued on, and Teal’c could imagine the look of want spreading across the man’s face.
Luc growled deeply. “Perhaps you would be a more worthy sacrifice, Zolin.”
Hearing the brittle laugh returned, Teal’c listened as the voice became softer. “No,” Luc laughed lightly, seeming to finding the other man’s reaction amusing, “have Tochtili take them to the quarry cliffs where they can meet their fate. The failure of the mocuepa is a sure sign from Tlaloc he would not favor their sacrifice.”
Silence an affirmation of compliance, Teal’c listened till he heard both men leave the hut and the rickety door close. Opening his eyes he let his gaze wander around the small, dimly lit space. Night had obviously closed in and a small candle provided the only light in the room.
O’Neill and Major Carter were both stretched out on the floor several feet away, and the twisted position of their limbs and lack of any bedding left Teal’c in no doubt the Yahtepec held their prisoners in little regard.
Inching forward as quietly as possible, Teal’c reached out towards the pulse point on O’Neill’s neck. Steady but slow. Reaching across his team leader’s body, he gently grabbed Sam’s bicep and pulled her closer. The reaction he got was faster than he could have anticipated. A fist struck out and hit him squarely on the jaw, and he recoiled under the unexpected attack.
“Major Carter!” he whispered, raising his hands to fend off any further attack.
Eyes wide, face pale, Sam Carter drew in a ragged breath and blinked furiously. “Teal’c?”
“We must remain quiet,” he cautioned, cocking his head in the direction of the closed door. “The Yahtepec leader may still be close-by.”
Sitting up slowly, Sam knuckled her eyes and ran a shaky hand through her hair. Looking back and forth around the room, she flashed Teal’c an inquiring look. “Daniel?”
“He is not with us.”
“Damn,” she muttered. “We need to get out of here before they return. I’m not too sure the trip to the quarry cliffs is one we really want to take, and finding Daniel is a priority.”
“You heard?”
“Some of it. Only woke up a few minutes ago. I’m guessing they drugged us with something and whatever it was wore off quicker than they expected.”
“We must use that to our advantage.”
Sam reached out and shook the colonel’s shoulder. “Sir?” With no reaction she checked his pulse again and winced. “He’s not going to wake up any time soon. Will you be okay to carry him?”
Teal’c nodded and rose to his feet. Suddenly dizzy and biting back nausea, he took a moment to steady himself.
“Teal’c, you okay?” Sam asked only moments before her own face took on a decidedly green hue as she made to stand. “Oh boy!”
Teal’c watched quietly as Sam gathered herself and began tapping the hut’s back walls lightly, recognizing this to be their only means of escape as the most obvious routes would be guarded. Waiting until she’d removed the last of the panels, he hoisted the colonel across his shoulders in a fireman’s hold.
Night blanketed the Aztec village. Smoke curled from the cooking fires of several nearby huts, and the mutterings of muted conversations drifted on the calm night air. The buildings seemed sparsely situated and Teal’c wondered what part of the vast city they’d been taken too. With no landmarks to guide them, and only the light from a single moon lighting the landscape, Teal’c could only guess they were on the outskirts of the village.
Thankful he wasn’t left having to make his escape carrying both his team mates, he looked on as Major Carter, armed with nothing but a paling from the hut wall, scouted the vicinity for guards.
Teal’c kept his frame as flat as possible against the rickety hut, the colonel’s body resting securely across his shoulders. With a quick nod, Sam darted into the darkness only to return minutes later.
“I counted one guard,” she huffed, sucking in a lung full of air.
Eyes dark, Teal’c frowned, “Clearly they weren’t expecting us to escape.”
Sam nodded. “Whatever the reason, I don’t see that we have much time.” Pointing to the rear of the hut, she motioned him forward. “It looks like we’re on the outskirts of the village,” she whispered, her gaze sharp and focused as she swept the area for trouble. “I spotted the indentation of a dry river bed. The rocks should cover our tracks.”
“What of Daniel Jackson?”
Sam reached across and tapped lightly on the colonel’s cheek. “One problem at a time, Teal’c. We need somewhere safe to hide and work out where we go from here. We’re out-manned and un-armed. Leaving is our only option.”
A cry of laughter and the rustling of heavy fabric caught them off guard. Pushing Teal’c back against the wall of the hut, she peered out around its corner and abruptly pulled her head back in. Clearly there was movement in the village.
“Leaving now is a better one.”
Staring into the starless night sky, the old woman sighed softly, her bones aching from sitting on her haunches for too long. As her thoughts wandered back in time, she smiled; remembering the sounds birds made as they bickered and fought in the trees, but that had been centuries ago and now her planet was dying. “Not any more,” she mused sadly remembering their sharp keening shrill as they aimed their feathered bodies downwards in the hopes of securing a live meal.
Dragging herself to her feet, arthritis paining her, Teiuc thought the birds hunted to extinction were better off than she was. She supposed that maybe they existed somewhere on this unforgiving rock, but if they had any good sense, they would stay well away from the Yahtepec. Still, she couldn’t complain, unlike the now extinct birds, she had only suffered the indignity of banishment by her people.
In a final act of contrition, she’d turned her back on her gods and the only way of life she’d ever known. Fearing she’d be sacrificed for her crimes, she was stunned when the warriors of her village merely looked on as she fled with her meager possessions.
Setting up a hovel outside the city border, she lived her life in quiet solitude with no one to bother her, but a whole life time of memories to keep her company. The only problem was… Teiuc’s memories were the stuff of nightmares.
The distant crunch of feet on rocks pulled Teiuc from her melancholy and she tilted her head in the direction of the sound. “No!” she hissed, snuffing out her shelter’s only candle and pulled the door covering closed. “Not after all this time.” She had no visitors, no one cared if she lived or died. In exile, it was as though Teiuc never existed. “Why now?”
Pushing the door covering back a fraction, she let her eyes adjust once again to the darkness, and with a stifled gasp, she caught sight of movement beyond the edge of her garden. The intruders were close, and their odd scent confused and alarmed her more.
“What is this?”
Ancient, Teiuc was a survivor, and grabbing the hardwood branch she kept by her door, she waited and listened, heart pounding with fear.
Two figures stumbled through the darkness and with a hiss and curse, the smaller of the two tripped and fell to the ground face first.
“Major—”
Major?
“I’m fine, Teal’c, just a few loose stones.”
“No!” Teiuc whispered, stunned at what played out before her. No woman was allowed beyond the village limits after darks. The gods would not allow it.
With a start, Teiuc shuddered as a terrible and familiar sound carried across the night air. She knew something was afoot, but what? A sacrifice? Call to war?
The strangers appeared to hear the cry as well, their hushed whispers falling silent as they staggered to clear the dry riverbed. Burdened or injured, she couldn’t tell, but the taller of the two was moving much slower, his gait awkward and unsteady. In the dead of night Teiuc couldn’t tell which.
Furtive looks over their shoulders told Teiuc the intruders hadn’t come for her. They were being herded just as surely as she had been centuries earlier, and she was in no doubt as to why.
Familiar voices drifted up the riverbed, growing louder with every passing moment. Doubt giving way to clarity, and pushing her fears aside, Teiuc threw open her door and ran out into the night.
“Over here!” She beckoned, scuttling across the hard ground and motioning them over. “I can help you.”
Stopping dead in her stride, the female turned to look at her, her body tense and eyes wide. Teiuc knew instantly she was not of the Yahtepec. Hair as yellow as the sun framed the stranger’s face like a halo, and for a brief moment, Teiuc wondered if she was a goddess. Pushing the thought aside—after all, who would be chasing their goddess—she swallowed her fear.
“Please,” she begged, keeping her voice at a hissed whisper, “move faster, they will be upon you soon.” With a quick thanks to the gods she no longer believed in, Teiuc studied the huge man with skin of ebony. Fear caused her eyes to widen; this one bore the mark of the evil gods.
“Who are you?” she asked, almost instantly regretting what his answer might be.
Shifting the weight of his unconscious companion on his shoulders, the man nodded curtly, ignoring both her question and her wide-eyed stare, and moved past her. Teiuc knew it was too late to withdraw her offer of help. What was done could not be undone, and she of all people knew this to be true.
Sam crouched down to her knees, and moving silently to the door, peered through the crack. Blinking, her eyes adjusting to the night, she tracked the shadowy figures moving beyond the edge of Teiuc’s meager garden. The warrior’s dark skin blended perfectly into the night, and Sam wondered if they’d substituted one problem for another.
The old woman’s rheumy eyes were wide with fear, and Sam sighed softly, aware she may not be quite so keen to help them now that warriors crawled all around her hut. Couldn’t blame her, she needed to be sure they weren’t betrayed. Narrowing her eyes briefly, Sam wondered why the woman appeared fixated on Teal’c. “Great,” she muttered under her breath, “they know the Goa’uld. This just keeps getting better and better.”
A shadowy movement dragged her back to the warriors and again, Carter regretted taking refuge. Cutting the first break of the night, Sam blew a relieved sigh as the sounds of the warriors drifted away, and for the moment they were safe. She hoped.
Smiling at the brave old woman, Sam felt a stab of sympathy for her gnarled old body. She was very old, and the bravery she’d shown three strangers was admirable. “Thank you,” Sam whispered. “Thank you very much.”
Her stare still firmly fixed on Teal’c, the old woman appeared to ignore Sam completely.
“He won’t hurt you.”
Shaking her head slowly, and sucking in a deep breath, the woman slid her gaze across to Sam, and muttered, “This one is a servant of evil.”
So it is the Goa’uld she’s afraid of. “No.” Sam shifted over next to Teal’c and rested a hand on the colonel’s chest. Steady and deep, just keep it that way, sir. “Teal’c used to serve the Goa’uld but he is allied with us now.”
“Goa’uld?” The woman stumbled over the word like it was unfamiliar to her.
“Ah, the evil?”
Giving Teal’c one last quizzical look, the old woman nodded, and her lips turned up in a small smile. “I am Teiuc.”
“Teiuc. I’m Sam, this,” she pointed towards Teal’c, “is Teal’c, and the sleepy one is Colonel O’Neill.”
Looking down at Jack, Teiuc frowned and patted his cheek with her hand. “He has been touched by the mocuepa,” she said suspiciously, turning to light up a small candle.
The what? Sam frowned. “Excuse me?”
“You have come from the village?”
“Yes.”
The flame flickered before settling on its wick, providing just enough light to fill the space with a shimmering yellow hue. “Then you have all been touched by the mocuepa,” Teiuc announced as she placed the candle on the floor between them. “None who visit the Yahtepec leave without being touched by the mocuepa.”
“Mocuepa?” Sam rolled the word off her tongue; it seemed familiar somehow.
“I believe that was the word Luc gave to the drug he tainted our wine with, Major Carter,” Teal’c offered in answer to her unspoken question.
“Yes!” Teiuc nodded stiffly, with suspicion making her expression hard and her voice brittle. “Mocuepa! Those the mocuepa does not work on are put to death. It is not something that occurs very often.” Eyeing Sam and Teal’c up and down, she cocked her head to the side in a surmising gesture. “There must be something about you three that stopped the mocuepa from working.”
“Teiuc, there is another of us. A friend. When we woke up, he was gone.”
Teiuc shook her head at Sam, eyes flashing briefly with sadness. “He is lost to you. The mocuepa changes people quickly and its effects are equally as brief. Soon he will be taken to meet the Gods.”
“The Gods?” Experience taught Sam that anything through the Stargate that concerned ‘Gods’ was never a good thing. “I need you to work with us here, Teiuc, please, it’s very important we understand what you’re saying. What is mocuepa, and what does it do to people?”
Teiuc sighed and rubbed her hands together. Looking across at Sam and Teal’c then down at the still sleeping colonel, she sat back on her low stool, chewing on her bottom lip, eyes intense. “Although I am no longer part of the Yahtepec, there are some traditions I still uphold. I can tell you what I know if you are prepared to listen.”
Sam looked down at Jack. Eyes darting under their hoods, she could tell the drug was starting to wear off. Any time you’d like to wake up would be fine with me, sir. “If it will help us get Daniel back, then yes, we’ll listen.”
“I guarantee nothing, only that it will help you to understand why you cannot help your friend.”
With a shiver, Daniel wondered briefly why he was cold. Egyptian nights were quite cool, he knew that, but why was this so cold? Confused, he patted around for his bedclothes, but finding none, he curled in tighter and shivered again.
On the cusp of sleep, and needing a distraction from the crisp night air, Daniel let his mind wander to the delights the breaking dawn would hold for him. He loved Saqqara, loved looking at the distant and massive sand dunes that swept down from the horizon and crashed into the temple complex like ocean waves. Not that Daniel had been to the ocean, but he’d seen pictures in books.
On calm days when the wind barely ruffled his long hair, he would sit in the large washing pail and pretend he was the captain of a mighty vessel pounding the waves and shouting “ahoy” at passing goat herders. Tonight though, Saqqara was cold, and getting colder by the moment. Daniel wrapped one arm around his knees and reached out for his blanket with the other. Hand slapping a hard surface, he jerked instantly awake and sat up.
The world had changed. Panic washed over him as he surveyed his new environment, and with a choked whimper, he scuttled into the nearest corner. The room he occupied was poorly lit. Fading threads of daylight filtered in from small window just below ceiling height giving off enough light for Daniel to tell he wasn’t in his home.
“Mommy?”
Time spent wandering through temple complexes and funeral chambers at the dig site in Saqqara told Daniel the room he was in was made from stone. Roughly hewn, it bit into his bottom and back, no position he tried was comfortable as the cold numbed him even more.
“Daddy?”
Rocking gently back and forth, he could feel the scratch of course fabric on his cold skin, and fingering the material, he swept his hands down his front until he reached the hemline. Whatever he was wearing was long, and pulling his knees up to his chest, he dragged the garment over his legs and feet to lock in some warmth.
“Garai?” Daddy had warned him about slavers—men that wandered the barren lands of Egypt seeking out women and children to sell to others. If you see anyone you don’t recognize, come to us or Garai. You understand me, Danny? Danny understood well enough, and Garai, his language teacher and family friend, was never far away.
Daniel always believed it was a story designed to keep him from exploring past the confines of the dig site and their camping grounds. Now he wasn’t so sure. Did they take Mommy as well? Were they even aware he was missing? Thoughts reeled through his scared and tired mind, and as fast as that fear was escalating… so were his sobs.
Small hiccups soon became choked and strained. His laments echoed off the cold walls of his prison and back to his ears, making him cry even harder.
A small ball of misery, Daniel didn’t hear the low moan of wood being dragged across the stone floor as the door was opened and a slightly built woman entered.
“Be quiet!” she yelled, teeth bared and nostrils flaring. “You will learn silence or I will teach it to you.”
Feeling like he’d been slapped across the face, Daniel dragged in a ragged breath and curled tightly into the corner. He gazed up at the woman through wet lashes and shuddered at her snarled expression. Long black hair peppered with streaks of grey swept over her bare chest and down to a short green skirt tied loosely around her waist. Skin the color of honey and eyes as dark as night, she was definitely not Egyptian.
Choking back a threatened sob, Daniel clutched at his shirt and tucked his head down to his chest, avoiding her eyes. “I-I want ma-my mommy.”
“You have no mother. You belong to Tlaloc and Chal now, and you will do their bidding.”
The woman spoke with such force that her words flew at Daniel in a hail of saliva, coating his face and arms. Recoiling in horror, unable to make sense of what was happening, Daniel turned towards the hard wall and tried to block out her image. A rough hand grabbed at his bony shoulder and yanked him around as a cup was shoved into his chest.
“Drink.”
Daniel looked at the cup then up at the woman and shook his head. “No.”
Eyes flashing and mouth set in a sneer, the woman snatched a handful of Daniel’s hair forcing his head back and his mouth to drop open. The cup was pressed roughly against his lips, liquid forced down his throat.
Coughing and spitting, lungs burning as the liquid went down the wrong way; Daniel doubled over in agony. “Mommy!”
“I told you she’s gone. You are worthless. Your life is no longer your own.”
Daniel felt a heavy numbness wash over him. Tired and cold, he struggled to sit up but his body felt heavy and kept pulling him down. Giving up, he turned onto his side and dragged his knees up to his chest, and with no energy left to draw on he ignored the cold and slipped into a fitful slumber.
