Temple (46 page)

But our fall was brief.
With a sudden, jarring jolt the two of us came to an abrupt halt.
In the terror of our fall, Hernando had reached out for a handhold,
had grasped for anything that would stop his fall.
What he had found was the free end of the rope that was still tied
to my right wrist. Now the rope lay stretched over a lone
floorboard on the rope bridge, with Hernando and myself dangling
from both of its extremities!
And so we hung there like counterweights hanging from a pulley, at
different ends of the same rope, with dangling cords of the
partially-broken rope bridge hanging down all around us.
Through force of luck—bad luck in my caseI hung below Hernando, my
head down near his dangling knees.
Hernando hung up higher, just below the remaining floor boards of
the bridge.
I saw that he had the idol in his left hand, while he held onto my
rope with his right. He reached up with his left hand, trying
desperately to loop the idol over the rope bridge's surviving
floorboards and garner a handhold.
Once he succeeded in doing that, I realised, he would be safe to
let me fall. At present, my weight—small though it
was compared to his—was the only thing holding him up.
I had to do something. And quickly.
'Why are you doing this, monk!' Hernando roared as he reached for
his salvation, so close now. 'What do you care about this idol! I
would kill for it!'
As he raged, I saw one of the thin cords dangling down . from the
rope bridge above us-one of the cords that had
previously held up the bridge's handrail.
If I could just…
'You would kill for it, would you, Hernando?' said I, try ing to
distract him as I endeavoured to untie the length of rope that was
tied around my right wrist—the rope that connected me to Hernando.
'That means nothing to me!'
'No?' he shouted. It was a race now, a race to see who would get to
his objective first—Hernando to the floorboard above us, me to
untie the rope that joined us together.
'No!“ I called back—just as I succeeded in releasing
myself from the length of rope.
'Why, monk?'
'Because, Hernando, I would die for it.'
And with that, having now freed myself from the rope tied to my
wrist, I reached out for the thin cord dangling down from the
bridge above me and grabbed hold of while at exactly the same
moment I released my grip on the
length of rope connecting me to Hernando.
The response was instantaneous.
With the counterweight at the other end of his rope now gone,
Hernando fell. Straight down.
He fell past me, his body a streaking blur of screaming humanity,
and as a fitting final insult, as he whistled by in front of me, I
reached out and plucked the idol from his grasp.
'Noooooo!' Hernando screamed as he fell.
And as I hung there above the abyss—dangling one- handed from the
rope bridge's cord, holding the sacred idol in my free hand—I
watched the look of absolute terror on his face get smaller and
smaller until, finally, it disappeared into the dark abyss beneath
me and soon all I could hear was his screaming.
It would stop a moment later at the same time as I heard a distant,
sickening splat.
I arrived back in the clearing some time later, the idol in my
hand.
The sight which greeted me was like a glimpse of the underworld
itself.
In the flickering light of the torches that littered the clearing,
I saw the rapas kneeling over the ranks of dead conquistadors,
gorging themselves on fresh human flesh.
Pointed silver helmets lay strewn everywhere, glinting in the
firelight.
It was then that I saw Renco and Lena and three of the Incan
warriors standing over by the portal, holding swords and muskets in
their hands—the only survivors of the car nage, thanks largely to
their fighting skills and the layer of
monkey urine that covered them. They appeared to be
“ searching for something. The idol no doubt.
'Renco!' I called. 'Lena!'
I regretted it as soon as I did it.
One of the rapas lying on the ground in front of me immediately
looked up from his feasting, disturbed by my shout.
The massive beast rose to its feet, glared at me.
Another cat beyond it did the same.
Then another, and another.
The pack of giant cats formed a wide circle around me.
They held their heads low, their ears pinned back.
I saw Renco turn and see my predicament. But he was too far away to
be of any help.
I wondered why my own layer of monkey urine was no
longer keeping the cats at bay. Perhaps it had been scraped away
during my scuffle with the wily old conquistador inside the temple
or maybe it had rubbed off when I had fallen to the ground after
being shot by Hernando.
Whatever the case, I thought, this was it, this was the
end.
The lead rapa tensed its whole body, prepared itself to
pounce. And then—
—the first drop of water hit the top of my head with a loud smack.
It was closely followed by a second drop and then a third, then a
fourth.
And then, like a gift from God himself, the skies parted and the
rain came tumbling down.
Oh, how it rained! It came down in sheets—thick drenching
sheets—big fat drops of water hammering down on the rock tower with
tremendous force, smacking down against my head, smacking down
against the idol.
And at that moment, thank the Lord, the idol began to sing.
Its song becalmed the cats instantly.
They all just peered at the dripping idol in my hands, their heads
cocked to one side in response to its melodious high-pitched
hum.
Renco, Lena and the three warriors came over to where I stood,
shielding their torches against the rain, skirting around the pack
of entranced rapas.
I noticed that Renco held Bassario's fake idol in his hand.
'Thank you, Alberto,' said he, taking the singing idol from me. 'I
think I shall take that now.'
Beside him, Lena smiled at me, her beautiful olive skin sparkling
in the rainstorm. 'So, you defeated the big gold- eater to save our
idol,' she said. 'Is there anything you cannot do, my brave little
hero?'
As she said these words, she suddenly leaned forward
and kissed me softly on the lips. My heart almost skipped a
beat as her lips pressed themselves firmly against mine. My
knees felt weak. I almost fell over, so delightful was the
touch of her lips.
As Lena was kissing me so beautifully, however, a voice
from somewhere behind me said: 'Come now, monk. I
thought that wasn't allowed for men of your ilk.'
I turned to see Bassario standing on the stone steps
behind me, his longbow slung over his shoulder, his face
creased into a broad smile.
'We reserve the right to make exceptions,' said I.
Bassario laughed.
Renco turned to face him. 'Thank you for returning to
help us, Bassario. Your arrows saved our lives. What made
you return?'
Bassario shrugged. 'As I reached the waterfall at the end of
the quenko, I saw the gold-eaters approaching from the other
side of the river. Then I supposed that if by some miracle
you
survived all of this, people would sing songs about you. I
decided that I wanted to be a part of those songs. To be
remembered for something other than disgracing my family
name, and at the same time, to restore that name to honour.'
'You succeeded on both c6unts,' said Renco. 'You truly
did. Now, however, may I beg your indulgence one more
time and ask of you one final favour.'
As he spoke, Renco—-holding a torch in one arm and
both idols in the other—began to back away from the rest of
us and headed through the rain toward the portal. On his
way, he picked up the llama's bladder from where it had
been dropped during the battle and allowed it to fill with
the pouring rain.
The cats immediately began to follow him—-or rather, fol low the
singing idol in his hands.
'Once I am inside the temple,” said Renco as he walked,
'I want you all to shut the boulder behind me.'
I looked from Renco to the three remaining Incan war riors beside
me.
'What are you going to do?' said I.
'I am going to ensure that no-one ever gets this idol,' said Renco.
'I will use it to lure the cats into the temple. Then, when they
are all inside, I want you to push the boulder
back into the portal.'
'But—'
'Trust me, Alberto,' he said, his voice calm as he moved slowly
toward the portal with the pack of rapas slinking along behind him.
'We shall see each other again, I promise.'
And with that, Renco stepped up into the open mouth of the temple.
The cats crowded in all around him, oblivious to the pouring
rain.
Lena, Bassario, the three warriors and myself hastened over to the
boulder.
Renco stood in the entrance to the temple and gave me one final
look.
He smiled sadly. 'Take care, my friend,' said he.
And then he was gone, disappearing into the darkness between the
boulder and the great stone portal.
The cats followed him into the temple one by one.
When the last cat disappeared inside the portal, Bassario called,
'All right, heave!'
The six of us leaned on the massive boulder, pushed against it with
all our might.
The big boulder rumbled loudly against the stone floor. It was
fortunate that we did not have to push it very far—-only a couple
of paces—otherwise we might not have been able to do it with only
six people.
But Bassario and the Incan warriors were strong. And Lena and I
pushed with all the strength we had, and slowly, very slowly, the
boulder began to fill the square-shaped portal.
As we proceeded to seal the temple with the great stone, I heard
the song of the idol inside it growing softer and softer.
Then abruptly the boulder sealed the portal fully, and as it did
so, it stifled the song of the idol completely, and with the
ceasing of that song, a great sadness came over me, for I
AS
knew then, in that moment, that I would never see my good friend
Renco again.
Before I left that dreadful rock tower, I would perform one final
act.
I grabbed a dagger from one of the fallen conquistadors and I
scratched a message into the surface of the great boul der now
lodged in the portal. I inscribed a warning for all of those who
might contemplate opening the temple again.
I wrote:
No entrare absoluto.
Muerte asomarse dentro.
Do not enter at any cost. Death looms within.
It has now been many years since those events transpired.
Now I am an old man, withered and frail, seated at a desk in a
monastery, writing by the light of a candle. Snow- covered
mountains stretch away from me in every direction.
The mountains of the Pyrenees.
After Renco entered the temple with the two idols and the rapas,
Bassario, Lena and I returned to Vilcafor.
It was not long before word spread throughout the empire of our
deeds—word of Hernando's death, and of the idol being laid to rest
inside a mysterious temple in the presence of a pack of deadly
rapas.
Typically, the Spanish colonial government created some sham tale
about the death of the Governor's brother, Her- nando. They said
that he died honourably at the hands of an unknown tribe of natives
while he had been bravely navigating some uncharted jungle river.
If only my countrymen knew the truth.
I also understand that the Incas did indeed sing songs about our
adventureand, yes, those songs mentioned Has- sario's nameand the
singing of those ballads continued even after the Spanish conquest
of their lands.
The gold-eaters, they said, could seize their land, burn their
houses, torture and murder their people.
But they could not take their spirit.
To this day, I do not know what Renco did inside that temple with
the two idols.
I can only assume that in his wisdom, he anticipated the rumours
that would spread after our victory over Her- nando. Like Solon, he
knew that people, hearing of the idol inside the temple, would seek
it out.
I imagine that he placed the fake idol at some location nearer to
the entrance of the temple, so that if someone did open it up in
search of the idol they would come upon the wrong idol first.
But I speculate. I do not know for sure.
I never saw him again.
For my own part, I could no longer endure living in the horror that
was New Spain. I decided to return to Europe.
And so after bidding farewell to the beautiful Lena and the noble
Bassario, with the help of several Incan guides I embarked upon a
trek through the mountains of New Spain, heading north.
I walked and walked, tlxrough jungles, mountains and deserts until
finally I came to the land of the Aztecas, the land that Cortez had
conquered in the name of Spain but a few years previously.
There I managed to bribe my way aboard a merchant ship, laden with
stolen gold, bound for Europe.
I arrived in Barcelona some months later and from there I travelled
to this monastery high in the Pyrenees, a place far away from the
world of the King and his bloodthirsty conquistadors, and it was
here that I grew old, dreaming every night of my adventures in New
Spain and wishing every moment that I could have spent just one
more day with my good friend Renco.
Race turned the page.
That was it. That was the end of the manuscript.
He looked forward through the cabin of the Goose.
Beyond the windshield of the little seaplane he saw the
sharp peaks of the Andes towering in front of him.
They would arrive back at Vilcafor soon.
Race sighed sadly as he thought about the tale he had just read. He
thought of Alberto Santiago's bravery, and of Renco's sacrifice,
and of the friendship that had developed between the two of them.
He also thought about two idols resting inside the temple.
Race pondered that for a moment.
Something about it wasn't right.
Something about the way the manuscript had ended—so suddenly, so
abruptly—and also, now that he thought about it, something he had
seen yesterday, back when Lauren had done the original nucleotide
resonance test to determine the location of the real thyrium idol.
Something about the result of that test that wasn't quite
right.
The thought of Lauren and Frank Nash's expedition gave rise to a
whole other set of thoughts in Race's mind.
How Nash wasn't with DARPA. How he was actually in charge of an
Army unit trying to beat the real Supernova team—a Navy team—to the
thyrium idol. And how he had