CHAPTER XI

The Sorcerer

THE home of Nohul Voh was on the outskirts of the city, a strange cylindrical structure of massive stones, topping a low mound in the center of a field, in which were growing gigantic weeds, herbs and strange flowers. No door, no window showed in the walls, but at several points narrow, vertical slits pierced the masonry. As we approached, Azcopil nudged me. “It is a favorable time,” he announced in a low voice. “See, the Nohul Voh is in his field gathering his magic herbs. I feared we might find him busy with the spirits or the stars.”

Moving slowly about, and almost completely hidden by the huge plants, was a stooping figure. He was draped in a robe of black, ornamented with weird symbols and figures of many colors; long, tangled, white hair fell like a heavy mantle about his shoulders and his face, and as his back was towards us, his features were completely hidden. Without speaking, noiselessly, we approached him. And so wholly unexpected was it, that I actually jumped when he spoke. “Welcome, bearer of the Book of Kukulcan!” he rumbled in a deep voice that seemed scarcely human, and without turning or glancing up. “And welcome, Prince, and thee, Itza, maid of Kinich Ahau. I have been awaiting you, aye, since first you set out this morning and, passing by the Place Where the Gods Carve the Stones, you stepped aside and saw; since the moment when you, Prince of the House of Nima Kiche, related the prophecy of your father’s fathers; since you entered to where the Bridge of Light is no more and, when finding not the place of the road of the children of Mictolan upon the Book of Kukulcan, you sought to learn the secret from Nohul Voh.”

I could scarcely believe my ears, could scarcely credit my senses. How in the name of all things did the old sorcerer know our every movement, even our words, our thoughts? Did he possess some weird, uncanny power?

I felt Itza shudder as she snuggled close to me, and I confess I had a most peculiar chilly feeling myself, for it was downright uncanny. Presently the sorcerer straightened up, turned, and approached us. I had expected to see a seamed, wrinkled, toothless, ancient man. His snow-white hair spoke of great age, and Azcopil had told me that Nohul Voh had been an old sorcerer in the days of his father’s father’s father. But the face he turned towards me was that of a youth, clear, smooth-skinned, bright-eyed, and with features as untouched by age as those of the prince beside me. Yet there was something about his face, something in the eyes, that spoke of great wisdom and of a knowledge beyond that of other men. And as he gazed steadfastly at me, I felt that he was looking into my inmost soul, was reading my most secret thoughts.

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[Illustration: I stared at it fascinated and stepped closer]

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“My lord has come to Nohul Voh to learn of the road of the symbols,” he said in his strangely deep voice. “He has come with the last of the House of Nima Kiche and with the maiden he desires to wed. It is well. The Kinchi Haman plans and plots, but he can learn nothing of the book of the future from Nohul Voh. Yet unto you, Itzimin Chac, will I reveal much. Come, my lord.”

Turning, he led the way through the giant weeds to the base of the mound, where, opening a massive wooden door, he stood aside, signalled for us to enter, and closed and fastened the portal behind us. For a few steps he led the way through a narrow dark passage. Then, without warning, a soft clear light burst upon us and I stared about in amazement. Had I been suddenly transported to the laboratory of an alchemist, I could not have been more surprised. We were in a large room, and everywhere the walls were hung with mystical figures on sheets of vellum, with bundles of dried plants and herbs, with the skulls of men and beasts, stuffed birds and quadrupeds, packages and bundles, and innumerable odd-shaped vessels and strange utensils.

Hanging near the ceiling in the center of the room was a sphere that glowed like a miniature moon and illuminated the entire chamber. Below this was a table of stone covered with sheets of papyrus bearing innumerable diagrams, symbols, and written Mayan characters, together with metal instruments and an abacus-like affair. At one side a pottery vessel, most marvelously like a retort, simmered over a charcoal brazier. Opposite this was a pillar of carved stone, perhaps three feet in height by four feet in diameter, and with upright rods of metal about its circumference. Above this, suspended in mid-air, without visible support, was a ball of polished green stone which rotated slowly upon its axis and swung in a circle above the top of the column, now and then touching one of the upright rods and emitting a low musical sound. I stared at it fascinated and stepped closer. What held it there? What unknown unseen power kept it ceaselessly rotating, following an orbit? Then I saw that the surface of the polished top of the column was covered with incised lines and glyphs and that, at the base of each upright rod, was an astronomical symbol. But before I could make head or tail of the remarkable device, before I could frame a question, the sorcerer spoke.

“My lord doubts the powers of Nohul Voh,” he said. “He thinks the future may not be read even though the past may be known. He says in his heart there is no magic, nothing that cannot be explained, nothing that is not a law of the gods. My lord, Itzimin Chac, is right. There is no magic, nothing that is not according to the laws of the gods. But there is wisdom, there is knowledge that some possess, of which others know nothing. My lord has the knowledge of making the thunder and the lightning serve him, but of that knowledge even I, Nohul Voh, know nothing. But I, Nohul Voh, have knowledge of how to make forces serve me, of which my lord knows nothing. My lord knows not how the fall of stone moves about, he cannot read the meanings of its motion. But to me it is clear, as clear as the future and the past, that I read in the smoke that the Prince Azcopil calls magic.

“To no living man or woman will Nohul Voh reveal the future, for to know the future is to know unhappiness and fear. But to my lord who bears the Book of Kukulcan will I reveal some things that he desires to know. But only to my lord alone. Remain with the maiden here, O Prince, while Itzimin Chac learns what he desires.”

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HE was standing close beside me as he spoke, he was in full view. Then, before my amazed, incredulous eyes, he rose slowly in the air and, like a wisp of cloud, drifted across the room. Itza shrieked, the prince shrank back, and I stared, wide-eyed, gaping at the miracle. And as he floated towards the wall his lips moved and again he spoke. “Have no fear, Itza, beloved of Itzimin Chac,” he said. “No harm will befall.”

The next instant he had reached the wall. A massive stone swung noiselessly aside, revealing a secret opening, and Nohul Voh beckoned me to follow him.

In a daze, bereft of all senses save utter amazement, I sprang through the opening and found myself in a second, smaller room illuminated by means of the same mysterious light. The sorcerer was once more standing, a smile upon his lips, and, bidding me be seated upon a massive stone chair, he stepped towards a magnificent ceremonial incense burner of immense size.

“First, my lord, you must have faith,” he announced, his eyes fixed upon mine. “In your heart I read that you doubt, so I must convince you, even against your own will. For many days I have watched you, my lord, as you came onwards towards Mictolan. I have seen you conversing with the priest, Katchilcan, I have seen you in the ancient temple bound by the savages, I have seen you surrounded by the raging waters in the Valley of Death and passing with the chief through the Tunnel of the Serpents; I have seen you cross the Pit of the Alligators, have seen you destroy the fiend Neztpehua and cross the eight deserts. I have watched you in the realm of hot ashes and the blazing mountains, as you led the demon Ixputeque to its death, and I have seen you in the Cave of Bats, lost and wandering in the darkness, until you came unto the Bridge of Light and the maiden Itza and found your fate.”

I was thunderstruck. I felt as though I were speaking my own thoughts aloud. Had he read my thoughts? Had he by some form of hypnosis been able to revisualize, step by step, all the scenes and incidents I had been through? I did not know. But I was positive that I was not consciously hypnotized. My mind was functioning clearly, I was reasoning, I was even planning some means, some question that would be a test; something, some secret known only to myself.

He had said he had seen me talking with Katchilcan. How much did he know of what had gone before? Could he tell me where I had found the codex that had led to all my astounding discoveries and adventures?

“It is all as you say,” I assured him. “But tell me, Nohul Voh, whence came I to the village of Katchilcan?”

He shook his head. “To all things there is a limit,” he said. “Does the loftiest mountain reach to the moon? Does the vulture perch upon the stars? Does the maize plant grow to height of the mountain? Does man live forever? No, my lord, even knowledge has its end fixed by the gods. Whence you came to the village of the priest I know not. Neither do I know when nor how you came by the Book of Kukulcan. But that you came by it honestly I know, for otherwise your way would not have been made easy, as was foretold in the prophecy. Is my lord ready to believe what I may show him?”

I was even more amazed at his words than if he had told me of my every movement and action since I entered Salceda’s shop at Vigo. For it was obvious, certain, that he did _not_ read my thoughts, that I was _not_ hypnotized. And I was convinced, even though my reason told me I should not be, that Nohul Voh possessed an uncanny, an almost supernatural power. If he could look into the past, might he not be able to look into the future? Was it not possible--even certain--that he had accomplished what countless men had dreamed of doing? Memories of theories of the fourth dimension, of extravagant fiction, of impossible, wholly imaginary stories raced through my brain. But none, nothing I had ever heard or read was as seemingly unreal, impossible and fictional as what was actually being demonstrated to me in this ancient city of the Mayas.

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AT last I found my voice. “I am convinced, O, Nohul Voh,” I declared. “Whatever you may show me, I will believe.”

He smiled. “Then, behold!” he exclaimed, removing the cover from the incense burner and stepping quickly to one side. For a brief moment I saw nothing. Then a thin, luminous wisp, similar to smoke in the beam of an electric light, rose from the great earthen vessel. Slowly it spread, mushrooming out, undulating, unfolding, until it formed a great cloud completely concealing the room beyond it. I gazed at it, watched it with fascinated eyes, hardly knowing what to expect. Lighter and darker areas appeared upon the now stationary bank of vapor. Patches of brown, of green, of blue appeared and slowly, little by little, like a dissolving view, a picture developed before my eyes. I recognized the picture instantly; it was the valley beyond the Cave of the Bats! There were the towering mountains, there was the cliff with the huge stone image of Kukulcan cut deeply into its surface. I seemed to be moving towards it. The valley and the hills came nearer and nearer. A stream dashed, foaming, through the valley. Beside a shaded pool a bare ledge jutted up, and upon the surface of the water-polished rock I saw the symbol that Itza had discovered in my codex--the symbol of Kukulcan, the foot and the reed.

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[Illustration: I recognized the picture instantly--it was the valley beyond the Cave of the Bats!]

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Now the scene was fading away. The stream broadened into a river. The mountains became lower. I seemed floating upon the tranquil river in a boat, and before me rose a mountain side, a terrible precipice. At the base the river vanished in a black, arched tunnel. It raced towards me. Suddenly the smoke screen turned inky black. Then a speck of light appeared upon it. Rapidly it increased in size. A vast expanse of sparkling blue water appeared, gleaming under a sun-bright sky. Above its farther shores rose wooded hills, purple in the distance. Close to where I seemed to float upon the surface of the lake a rocky island rose, and clearly visible upon the surface of a water-washed cliff I saw the symbol once more. Slowly the picture faded, once more the glowing vapor rolled and writhed. It thinned, broke into wisps, and, stepping forward quickly, Nohul Voh replaced the cover on the huge urn. I lay back, weak, speechless. “My lord has seen the road of the symbol.”

At his words I seemed to come out of a trance. I laughed almost hysterically. “And to what purpose?” I asked almost unconsciously, for my thoughts were a confused jumble. “I have seen neither the beginning nor the end.”

“The end, I cannot show,” he declared, shaking his mane of white hair. “And the beginning is here in Mictolan. Across the Bridge of Light and through the Cave of the Bats.”

“Then, O, Nohul Voh, I have learned nothing,” I exclaimed. “With no Bridge of Light to cross, of what value the road beyond?”

He came towards me, seated himself close to me and spoke earnestly.

“My son,” he said, “perhaps Kinchi Haman knows the secret of the Bridge of Light. But it will come again as always from the beginning it has come and gone.

“When the many-colored flames rise from the temples, then, my son, you may know that the Bridge of Light spans the chasm.

“Watch for those flames, my lord, and when they rise, hurry with the maiden and cross on that bridge of light without delay. Woe to you should the flames cease when you and the maid are midway from rock to rock!”

“And cannot you, who can read the future, say whether that may or may not happen?” I demanded, a tone of sarcasm in my voice.

“It would be of no avail, rather a hindrance, could I reveal it,” he replied. “If I should say unto you that death awaited you and the maiden, it would cause you pain and suffering and life would not be worth the living. Should I tell you that you would cross in safety, and you believed me, you would have no uncertainty of the future and life would lose its greatest zest. Nay, my son, of the future I will not speak. But of the past or rather of the present I would say a word. I said I knew you had come by honest means to be the holder of the Book of Kukulcan. I said I knew not whence you came. But this I know, that you are not of my race, are not the son of Kukulcan. No, start not, it matters nothing. In the prophecy it is not said that the symbol should be brought by a man of the Kitche Maya nor of the House of Kukulcan, but by a stranger. And also I know that the people of Mictolan will not be brought forth by you, my lord. Long ago has the allotted time passed.

“There is much in the ancient prophecy that none but I, Nohul Voh, can read.

“Nay, even Kinchi Haman knows it not, for while much of the Book of Kukulcan is written in the Itzae symbols, yet much was written for secrecy in the symbols of Ziyan Caan, known only to the House of Cocome Voh, of which I, Nohul Voh, am the last.

“And in that secret writing it is foretold, that if the messenger comes not with the symbol by the end of the thirteenth Katun, the power of the Kiche Maya will be forever at an end.”

I gasped. The thirteenth Katun! I had made a rapid mental calculation as he spoke. That was somewhere about the twelfth century A. D. I had come a mere matter of some eight centuries too late!

But Nohul Voh was again speaking. “But even though the Kinchi Haman knows not this,” he was saying, “he knows that the bearer of the symbol foretold in the prophecy must bear upon his breast the mark of the House of Tutul Zius, and my son bears not that mark. He dares not ask my lord, yet he but half believes, and he plots and schemes to see. And though I will reveal nothing of the future, even to you, my son, yet I am your friend and the friend of the Prince Azcopil and I would see the downfall of Kinchi Haman, and, if my lord consents, I will place upon his breast the secret mark of the Tutul Zius that is known only to those of the inner circles. And thus may the Kinchi Haman be betrayed.”

I laughed. “Then, O, Nohul Voh, it must assuredly be written in the book of the future that I shall bear that mark placed upon my breast by your hand, and who can escape Fate. So be it, O, Great Sorcerer of the House of Cocome Voh.”

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