Part Three
"Tell me about yourself, Hetah."
"What do you mean, Colonel?" The girl stopped, the knife she was using to cut up the fruit, dripping with juice. She looked across at him, clearly puzzled. "There is nothing to tell."
"How did you come to work here?" Jack took another slice of the pink fruit on the tray, resting leaning his chin on his hand, his elbows on the table. "Were you always a slave?"
"No." Hetah gave a small laugh, smiling. "My parents sold me when I was five to pay debts. I am pleased they did. It is an honor to work here at the palace."
"An honor? How is it an honor? Wouldn't it be better to be free?"
She laughed again, shaking her head. "No, Colonel. Here at the palace I have plenty of food and fine clothes to wear. And now, since you have arrived, I have the honor to serve both you and the gods. I am very happy."
The soft flesh of the fruit felt cold on Jack's tongue as the sweet juice ran down his throat. "How does serving me serve the gods?"
There was silence and Jack looked up from the plate, just in time to catch a glimpse of something in Hetah's brown eyes, but it was gone before he could recognise it, her face breaking into a broad and open grin. "You are a great warrior, Colonel, and serve Huitzilopochtli, the god of war. He watches over you, and sees that you are being properly treated and is pleased. My greatest wish is to serve the gods well."
The girl's voice rang with a fervour that Jack found disturbing. God of war? He could live with that—it actually seemed quite appropriate. He'd have to remember to ask Daniel if he had seen a picture of this god, or read a description. Bet he had glowy eyes, and a really bad attitude. It would have to wait until morning. Right now he was so exhausted he could hardly keep his eyes open. He finished the last piece of fruit, taking a drink of water to wash it down, and wiped his hands on the cloth Hetah had placed beside the plate.
"You look tired, Colonel." Hetah put the knife down and rose, moving to his side, her hand stroking along his arm. "Come to bed. Tomorrow it is the rite of Tlaxochimaco. Your tonalli must be strong for the morning."
"Tonalli?" Jack blinked, wondering if he was hearing her words properly. Half of what she said went right over his head. He needed Daniel to translate.
"Your life force. There will be much celebration and you need to be rested." She slipped a hand under his shirt, undoing the top button, pushing his hand away as he weakly protested. "Together, we will give our lives to the gods, helping them in their tasks. When his life force joins with yours, Huitzilopochtli will shine upon our city, and Teteoinnan will wear my skin, allowing the goddess to visit with us and bestow a bountiful harvest." She pressed against him, almost kneeling on his legs, taking his lolling head in both hands. "I am so happy to give my life to serve the gods. We are truly blessed."
Hetah pressed her lips to Jack's, ignoring his low moans of protest. "The juice from the grua fruit will relax you while the preparations are made, but do not worry, the effects will wear off by the morning and you will be able to feel the ecstasy as you become cuauhtecatl, the eagle man and fly to meet the gods."
Jack could do nothing as the blood seemed to freeze in his veins, even his voice now stilled. He felt hands lifting his unresponsive body, taking it to the bed, and realised that he and the girl were no longer alone. Low chanting had him turning his eyes to the left, finding the High Priest Yetzolt standing alongside him; his tall feather head dress bobbing as he sang. Then his vision was filled with Hetah's face, and once again she slipped her hand into his shirt, undoing the buttons and deftly tugging it from his body. He felt the featherlight movements of her fingers on the buckle of his belt and tried to protest, only to have the protest die unspoken, unable to move at all. Minutes later, cool air breezed across him, and he knew he was naked, lying there, surrounded by people, completely helpless.
He had let his guard down and now he was paying the price. But what was the price? What did they want with him?
One thing he did know—he was so going to kick Carter and Daniel's butt when they got home. Friendly. Harmless. As if!
And finally the juice of the grrrr plant, or whatever it was called, hit his brain and he dropped away into nothingness.
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Teal'c was not taken by surprise. He could count the number of times he was taken by surprise on the fingers of one hand, and this was not one of them. It was, however, not a situation he could resolve to his advantage.
Daniel Jackson was already subdued, and Captain Carter, although valiantly fighting overwhelming odds, would soon join their teammate in the hands of their attackers. Teal'c had been unable to reach his staff weapon, set upon as they were just as they stepped through the door into the large room they all shared. Sensing something amiss, he had managed a warning shout, but not much more, the bulk of the attackers concentrating on him. The sheer number of the warriors soon had him held fast, leather bindings twisted around his forearms, tying them to his body. Each movement he made only served to tighten the leather further, but although it was futile, he could not help struggling against his captor.
"Why are you doing this?" Daniel Jackson looked dazed, but defiant as he questioned the men. "What's going on?"
"Let us go!" Captain Carter added her voice to the protest, and he felt a surge of anger at the sight of a red handprint, vivid across her face.
It had been no use. Their protests ignored, they had been locked away until the morning, the whereabouts of Colonel O'Neill their main concern.
They had their answer soon after dawn.
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The guard holding Teal'c's left arm grunted as he swung an elbow towards him, just managing to avoid the blow. They were weakening, these cowards that held him, refusing to fight.
O'Neill was being carried near him, carried by more of these deceivers. He struggled again, pulling towards the bier, but couldn't reach it.
The High Priest, Yetzolt, walked at the head of the procession, his cloak swinging around his knees. For a moment Teal'c stilled, remembering.
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The High Priest nodded, and Jack was tugged forward, struggling against the hands holding him, forced to his knees at the base of the steep flight of stairs. Yetzolt's fingers grabbed hold of the short hair on his head, and he found himself being pulled along towards the first step. The pain as his scalp was stretched was sharp and sudden, and he barely had time to register his being taken by each limb and dragged, his knees painfully bent, scrapping the edge of each step as the whole entourage climbed towards the top of the structure.
They reached the top, and Jack's hair was released, freeing him to turn his head. Standing, several feet away at the edge of the small group of spectators here atop the steps, were his team, their faces horrified. Teal'c was bound, tight rawhide digging into his flesh, a warrior on either side of him. Carter and Daniel were free, but also guarded, a knife held to Carter's neck. A large red mark, already bruising on the Captain's face testimony to her attempts to escape.
It looked like Daniel was finally getting to see the temple.
Instead of the fresh breeze he expected this far above the buildings, Jack smelt a stench immediately bringing to mind a slaughter-house, acrid smoke filling the air from several torches burning around them.
"No! You can't do this!" Daniel voice broke the silence, and the High Priest turned, smiling benignly.
"It is a great honour, Doctor. The Colonel will become a cuauhtecatl, his spirit will join Huitzilopochtli in the sky, and he will sit at his right hand. I envy him."
Raising his arms, the priest beckoned to waiting slaves, and they carried a long heavy cloak forward, letting it unfurl as they draped it over his shoulders, using a large gold clasp to hold it in place at his neck. Thick black hair hung in glossy strands from the narrow top, flowing down the priest's back.
As Yetzolt moved towards him, a raw smell of rotting meat emanated off the cloak in waves. Jack stared at it, trying to not see the obvious, to not accept the evidence of his own eyes, but as the bile rose in his throat, Jack knew he could deny it no longer, the birthmark staining the human skin crossing over the other man's left arm. The same birthmark he knew had been echoed on Hetah's upper arm, and he fought, redoubling his struggle, the image of a beautiful young girl, full of life, making him scream his defiance.
When he was stretched out, his bare back against the hard rock of the altar stone, a roar of approval rose from the crowd below. Every inhabitant of the city was there, every citizen, every slave, all come to see the warrior from beyond the stars give up his life force. Yetzolt had taken great care to explain it to him as they had washed his body carefully, anointing it with fragrant oils. Like their ancestors of old, they went willingly to their doom, rejoicing as they gave their life for the gods, as Hetah had done. Jack would join her soon.
But there was one major difference between Jack and Hetah - he would not go willingly.
And as the priest held the obsidian knife to his face, and carved the first of many lines into his skin, Jack cursed him with every breath he took.
Until Yetzolt tore his heart out.
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The priestly procession left them several miles from the gate, telling them that they needed to return to the temple - many others were waiting patiently to give their life that the sun might ride across the sky. SG-1's packs were handed over, but their weapons were missing, giving them no chance for vengeance. It was made quite clear that they were to leave immediately, and although Yetzolt farewelled them as if they had been honoured guests, the soldiers' threatening looks were not lost on them. Untied, Teal'c bent and lifted the Colonel's body, cradling it as they walked away, not looking back.
Going home.
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