…The High Priest had raised the sacrificial knife above his head and was bringing it down in a vicious blow aimed to split Jenura’s chest so he could extract the still-warm heart.

Slowly the High Priest rose gracefully into the air, parallel to the altar, then rose even higher before cartwheeling downward. He screamed once, the high-pitched wail of terror cut off as he crashed against the steep side of the pyramid. He bounced into the air, then struck again, this time on his head. His skull burst open, blood and brains splattering the side of the pyramid. He slid to the bottom, a battered shell of what had been the second most powerful Zetacun.

The two other priests followed him down, more quickly. It was as if they were pushed from the platform. Their screams echoed over the heads of the crowd almost to the bottom of the slope as the pyramid’s rough stones broke them apart.

The guards stood frozen at the base of the steps, unable to comprehend what had happened.

A deathly silence settled over the crowd. They stood staring transfixed at the lone figure still fastened helplessly to the posts.

Was this the work of Jenura’s god, one more powerful than Kwet-Zal-Co-Atl, the God of Gods? So powerful that he had destroyed the High Priest, the chosen one of the gods, on this most holy of temple sites?

A new figure appeared on the altar. A mighty figure clad in armor with gleaming gold studs that sparkled in the light of the setting sun. He stood, feet apart, hand outstretched toward the setting sun.

A strange humming grew steadily in volume until it filled the air surrounding the pyramids. As if by magic, a giant sword appeared in the right hand of the warrior, the scabbard at his waist. He raised the sword to the heavens in a salute to the gods, then lowered the mighty weapon to reverently kiss the blade.