Reclamation - Chapter 55

Liberty examined the flute, each detail intricate in its meaning and beauty. “Corey found this in the cave?” she asked.

Garrett nodded.

“Why didn’t he show it to us until now?”

Walter took it from Liberty and inspected the jaguar at the foot, the dates carved into the sides. “Where is he?”

Garrett motioned across the street. “I’ve got to catch up to him. Let me know what you think, okay?”

Walter nodded and Garrett jogged across the street, his limp slowing him to a walk as he reached the shoulder of the road.

“Does it have any significance?” Liberty asked.

Walter winked. “Just a little.”

“Such as?”

Walter gazed into the mouthpiece and checked the airway. “It’s in perfect condition.”

Liberty placed her hands on her hips. “Give it back or start talking.”

Walter traced the jaguar image. “See this?”

Liberty nodded.

“Tezcatlipoca,” Walter said, tracing the head, back and legs.

“The jaguar god.”

Walter nodded.

“What makes it special?”

Walter propped himself on the guardrail, ankles crossed in front of him. “Each year the Aztecs took part in a feast to celebrate Tezcatlipoca. On the day of the feast, a specially prepared young man would climb the steps to the temple, willingly, to be sacrificed to the god.”

“The Festival of Toxcatl.” Liberty said.

Walter nodded. “You know your history.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I was kind of born into it.”

“During the celebration, another young man would be chosen to become the sacrificial victim the next year. He had to be the best looking, most intelligent, skilled flute-player in the city.”

“You think this flute belonged a man who gave himself up to his pagan gods?”

“No, it belonged to a man who had planned to give himself up.”

Liberty took the flute and examined it, running her fingers over the images. “What do you mean?”

“The man would parade around the city pretending to be Tezcatlipoca for an entire year. The people worshiped him, thronged to his music. He lived as the most noble of royalty for he represented their god in human form.”

“Did they believe the flute gave him special powers or something?” Liberty asked.

Walter shrugged. “They may have believed that was the case. I only know that on the day of the celebration, the man would take all his flutes and break them on the temple steps as he climbed to his death. No exception.”

“The last one didn’t die,” Liberty said.

Walter nodded. “The Spaniards wouldn’t have allowed it. Whoever was acting as Tezcatlipoca at that time, continued. His flutes, at least this one, survived, which is one of the rarest archeological finds I believe we’ll ever live to see.”

Liberty handed the flute to her father and pulled out her camera. After several photographs, she asked, “Why do you think they brought it north with the treasure?”

Walter shrugged. “I have no idea, but it makes me awfully curious about the rest of the artifacts. Were they all religious in nature or were they comprised of their most valuable objects just to keep them from the greedy Spaniards?”

 Liberty put her camera away and turned around, examining the rock. “Okay, check out those five symbols right there.” She pointed to the hillside and Walter turned, handing the flute back. He stepped over the guardrail and pressed his face to the fence.

“Those are Mayan glyphs.”

            

“That’s what I thought.” Liberty took her camera out of the bag and tucked the flute inside. She began photographing the glyphs, changed the settings on her camera and began again. “Do you know what they mean?”

            

Walter let go of the fence and moved to another angle. “I never really researched Mayan writing. In some cases it’s very similar to the Aztec’s, but the Aztecs were generally more elaborate.”

            

“Any similarities there?” she asked.

            

Walter squinted. “A couple look similar to the Venus glyph.”

            

Liberty took in the rest of the petroglyphs on the hillside. “Didn’t the Aztecs use Venus as their day marker?”

            

Walter nodded. “So did the Mayans and the Fremont Indians.”

            

“Then the evidence that the Fremont Indians were influenced by the Mesoamerican culture is carved in stone?” she joked.

            

Walter chuckled. “Something like that.” He paced beside the fence, inspecting the carvings. “I can’t believe I’ve missed so much of this before.”

            

“Sometimes we overlook those things we live closest to.”

            

Walter nodded. “Yeah. You see Garrett anywhere?”

            

Liberty scanned the opposite hillside, a road’s width away. “No, but he couldn’t have gone far.”

            

“Unless Corey’s given him trouble.”

            

Liberty hung her camera over her neck. “I think I’ll go check on them.”

            

“Good idea. Holler if you need me.”

            

Liberty stepped over the guardrail and moved quickly across the road, though no cars were within sight.

“Garrett?” Her voice echoed between the cliffs in the narrow gap, but Garrett didn’t answer. “Garrett?”

            

A car passed. A woman with black hair sat behind the wheel, her gaze to her right in conversation with a passenger couldn’t see. Liberty wrinkled her forehead.

            

“Corey? Garrett?”

            

“Nothing?” Walter asked behind her.

Liberty jumped. “I didn’t hear you.”

He chuckled. “Let’s hope Garrett’s not so lost in thought, or he’ll never hear us either. Search to your left, I’ll get this end.” Walter headed to the right without waiting for a response.

Liberty checked the road again. The car had long disappeared from sight and no others appeared. She turned back to the hillside and picked out a faint trail, following it until the shadows from the cliff engulfed her. She wrapped her arms around her chest and stopped.

“Garrett?”

“Up here,” he called, waving his arm.

Liberty picked up her step, climbing up the smooth sandstone.

Garrett sat on the ground, his hands working at the bandage she’d used on his thigh the night before. A fresh pool of blood saturated the bandage and Liberty’s heart leapt.

“You okay?”

He nodded, touching the bandage gingerly. “That’s a beautiful shade of red, don’t you think?”

She glared at him.

Garrett shrugged before scanning the hillside. “You seen Corey?”

Liberty shook her head. “You never caught up to him?”

He finished retying the bandage and stood, testing his weight.

“He passed through that crevice up there.” He pointed before resuming his climb.

“Did you talk to him?”

“I saw him and called to him, but I don’t know if he heard,” Garrett said over his shoulder as he reached the crevice and searched inside.

She was waiting for him when he emerged alone. “Think he’s already headed back to the car?”

They rounded the cliff and the land stretched out in rolling hills before them, the road snaking between them before heading into the valley west of Cedar City.

“He came this way?” Liberty asked.

Garrett nodded. “Toward the road. My guess is he’ll walk the shoulder until he can hitch a ride out of here. He still thinks we’re out to get him, and he’s putting that treasure before Maddy’s life. It’s not like him.”

Her heartbeat spiked. “You don’t think he got into that last car, do you?”

Garrett stopped walking. “When?”

She tried to calculate the time but really hadn’t paid enough attention. “Ten minutes ago, I guess. There was a dark haired woman and a passenger, but I didn’t see the passenger.”

Garrett kicked at the ground and winced. “I thought we’d be safe enough up in here. I thought we could earn his trust enough to take him right to the hospital.”

Liberty placed a hand on his. “It’s not your fault, Garrett.”

He pulled away and nearly ran to the asphalt. He checked both directions before clasping his hands behind his head and raising his face to the sky. “If it wasn’t for Maddy, right now, I’d walk away.”

            

“No you wouldn’t.”

            

Garrett dropped his hands to his side, shoulders sagging. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. You couldn’t walk away now because you’re too good a friend.”