Lance yanked another gold bracelet off a skeleton and slipped it onto his arm, then slapped Miquel on the back. “Those superstitious fools who turned back are going to kick themselves when we return to town.”
Miquel placed a crown on his head and smiled. “Max and Renato died in an accident, not because of some Mayan curse. Nacon, god of war, be damned. Now we’re the lords of Quixtelopotec.”
Hours later, Miquel hauled the last bag of treasure up from the sacrificial pit and held his hand out to Lance, a knife concealed behind his back. It wasn’t much of a struggle.
“Blasphemer! You will die for your sacrilege!”
Miquel spun around, his face frozen in shock as a stone masked figure stepped into view. He backed away, slipping on Lance’s blood. Renato pulled the mask from his face as Miquel fell into the pit. Now the treasure was all his. Killing Max and frightening the others was easy. He whistled at he loaded the loot onto the pack mules.
“Blasphemer!” the voice reverberated off the stone ruins, shaking dirt and debris loose around Renato. He looked around. Did the others sneak back? He paled as a figure marched out of the rock wall shaking a stone mallet over his head. “You, who dare to steal from Nacon, shall pay with your blood.”
His former companions, eyes black and hollow grabbed him with ethereal hands. He could only scream as he fell into the darkness.
alkaplan 