8. The Serpent in the Lake
The green boa swam smoothly through the water of the swamp. There was hardly a ripple as it flowed along invisible to the fish and caiman that were its prey. The Anaconda was not hungry. Destiny called it elsewhere.
~~~~
Marguerite Krux gritted her teeth as she did one of Challenger’s more painful exercises. Damn the man, she thought, why did it have to hurt so much? At the end of the regimen, she sat back in her chair waiting for the ache to subside. She shrugged her shoulder to ease it. To tell the truth though, her arm did feel much stronger, not that she’d ever admit it to the egotistical professor.
Two days had passed since the others had left. It had been quiet and confusing, this time alone with her thoughts. She had debated for a while the idea of searching for the shaman who turned into a bird, but having no clue how to find him, she thought it best to remain here. If he came to her, she’d make her decision then.
The ebony bird flapped to the ground in the clearing by the windmill, the shadow on its wing lengthening to the form of Black Robe. Beside him, Raven transformed into the shape of a European in his mid-thirties, a likeness he hoped the woman in the treehouse would find attractive. He would tempt her with riches and knowledge and power; he knew those things to be her weakness. Would he be able to induce her to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh? Raven was restless with anticipation.
Black Robe stood sombrely beside the pacing Raven. He was deeply troubled by their encounters with the band of destiny. More than once he had been part of these ritual battles; he sometimes had a forewarning of the final outcome. He had grave concerns about these humans. They were not so very strong or good, but in each trial they had chosen the way of the Protector. The Spectre had not intended to become so involved in the lives of these people, preferring rather to hide behind the Raven and subtly influence the future. When he began to realize that the decision could go against the line of Mordren, he had been forced to take action. He had tried to twist their destiny but the Incan gods had thwarted him at every turn. Each of their warnings had been more violent than the last. It had come down to this final test. The choice about to be made by the woman in the treehouse was vital. She had a touch of the dark smoke about her. If she chose against the Protector’s line, all was not lost. The forces of Mordren would win the battle.
“Leave her to me,” beseeched Raven. “The gods are angry with you. They will keep you from your goal.”
The fake priest scowled darkly. He recognized the truth of the trickster’s words but didn’t trust the slippery bird to play his part.
“Remember, if you fail in your role, there will be no reward for you.”
Raven’s eyes gleamed as he thought of the pool silver with tasty salmon, his nest lined with iridescent abalone. “I only promised to set a test. She will do what she will do. I should have my reward either way.”
“You know what must happen. She has got to make the right choice or you will get nothing. Remember that.”
Raven was very unhappy with the words of Black Robe. This had not been the adventure he had looked forward to. Each day had been more frightening than the last. Each day his belly grew smaller; soon he would be as scrawny as the man beside him. He turned to the Spectre to tell him that he no longer wanted to be part of his dangerous scheme. He looked into the smouldering eyes of his companion and found himself swallowed up, consumed by the evil behind the black eyes. He hopped backwards just as he would if he was his bird-self.
“Yes,” he found himself saying, “yes. I’ll remember. But I must go alone”
The black-robed man continued to stare then ground out a reluctant “Go.”
~~~~
Marguerite was disturbed from her reading by a shout from outside.
“Hall-oo, the house. Is anyone home?” Curious, Marguerite looked over the railing of the balcony at the handsome European waving at her from the gate. “There you are!” the stranger said cheerfully, “I hope you’re alone.”
“Do I know you?” Marguerite said, reasonably certain she knew the answer.
“You mean you don’t recognize me?” he teased, “I know I’ve changed. However, you remain as lovely as ever.”
“Salish?” she ventured, sensing that the young man below was the old shaman - and the black bird.
“At your service, Madame. I promised you that I would be your guide. And here I am, good as my word. May I come up?”
“Now why should I invite you up? Last time we met, you nearly got us killed.”
“That wasn’t my fault. A force of nature. An act of god, as it were,” he replied with a brilliantly white smile.
The woman on the balcony could feel the force of his charm despite the distance that separated them. “How about I come down? I wouldn’t try to open the gate if I were you - you’ll get a nasty shock.”
“I thought as much. You really should put out a warning sign. Someone could get killed.”
“Probably someone who deserves it,” she retorted. She turned away, took the elevator to the ground and warily approached the gate. The man’s Mediterranean good looks were even more attractive from up close. Shaggy jet black hair and dancing eyes were his best features. She tilted her head to the side as she sized him up.
“You know, you look like a damned crow even when you’re human.”
He shot her an injured look. “Raven, madame, legendary folk-hero of the Pacific North-West. Not a homely crow.”
“From what I’ve read of Indian myths, the Raven is a greedy, tricky creature who betrays everyone he meets.”
“Oh, cruel mistress, how can you be so unkind! I have come to mankind’s rescue more often than you’ll ever know – I brought them fire, wisdom, riches. And I can bring you riches too. I did not lie. I know what you want and need and where it can be found.”
“How do you know what I want?”
“I travel far and the breezes whisper secrets. The breezes around this plateau positively shout secrets. All I ask is that you accompany me, see what I have to offer. What you do with it is your concern.”
Marguerite was torn with indecision. This could so easily be a trap. One day with Locke had shown her how a charming exterior could contain an untapped capacity for greed and violence. And, of all the people on the plateau, she was the one that madman had chosen to spend eternity with.
But a burning emptiness inside her taunted her reticence. She had spent her whole life as a cipher, always searching for a name, a past, a story she could call her own. The unlikely dream of finding her identity still persisted deep within her. And now, when the opportunity presented itself for her to acquire the amulet that had brought her here in the first place, she couldn’t turn her nose up at it.
“How far is it from here?”
“Not far,” he said, a smile brightening his features. He looked up at the sun low on the horizon. “But it would be best to go in the morning.”
“Well, I hope you’re comfortable out here tonight. See you tomorrow.”
“Madame, you can’t think to leave me out here all night with the raptors.”
“I thought you might just roost up in that tree.”
He shook his head in mock sorrow. “A heart of stone. Just listen to my offer. If I went hunting and brought back something tasty to eat, prepared a magnificent repast, surely I could earn myself a bed for the night?”
“What, without a chaperone? Tongues would wag. But I might be able to find a cage for you to perch in.”
Both wore broad smiles after their badinage. Salish broke away with a sigh.
“Well, I suppose I could bed down outside. But I would appreciate being on the inside of this fence. I’m off to catch some fish. I’ll be back by sunset.”
Marguerite’s smile lingered a while after Salish had disappeared into the jungle. It took a moment for her to realize how easily he had gained her acceptance. She vowed that she would not let her guard down with the disarming sweet-talker; strange and dangerous things happened when he was around.
~~~~
Marguerite was forced to admit that Salish was an excellent cook. He had prepared a ‘trutas con almendros’ which reminded the dark-haired woman uncomfortably of the trout dinner that an ‘infected’ Ned Malone had cooked for her a year earlier. That meal had ended badly with Malone -transformed into a werewolf- leaping over the balcony.
Salish had convinced her to bring out a bottle of wine and they finished it between the two of them. The spirits, fine cuisine and charming conversation left her in an excellent mood. She felt herself wavering in her resolve not to trust the scoundrel. He had hinted more and more broadly that the artifact in question was the ouroboros. The trickster had even used the expression ‘control of time and space’; she could think of no other relic with that kind of power.
Raven told her of his land, the emerald hills receding in ever-paler blues to soft grey skies. Soaring mountains and teeming wildlife - a land of bounty. For a brief moment there was a hint of longing in his voice. Raven suddenly realized that he wished he was home, that he was very afraid he might die here in this exotic, dangerous land. He shook his head to cast away the fear. Here he was, his belly full, an adventure ahead, a beautiful woman, a treasure to be discovered. Why would he leave now?
“I have something I’d like you to see,” From inside his shirt he pulled out a cloth package and unwrapped it before her. Within it was a tapestry of some sort, a series of knotted strings of different colours.
“What is it?” Marguerite’s curiosity was piqued by a sense of familiarity.
“It’s called a “quipu”,” he returned. “Very old. Legend says that it has some meaning, that it can unlock the secrets of the ancient people who lived before the Incas. There must be something to it. Most of these were destroyed by the Spanish priests after the conquest. Or so I’ve heard.”
Marguerite reached out to touch the threads of cotton - red, white, green and golden. As she touched them, the language therein was revealed to her. Startled, her eyes widened
“It’s a kind of code. Taxes, census. And -and, ” her eyes closed in concentration as her fingers flew along the lengths of the strings. A legend. The story of El Dorado. You know the one. For his coronation the priests would cover the new king with gold dust. They would all row out to the middle of the sacred lake and throw gifts of solid gold down to please the gods that lived in the lake. Then the new king would dive in the water and the gold dust would drift to the bottom, a further gift so that the gods would bless his reign.”
“An interesting story. But nothing that is not already well-known.”
“Well, yes but I can tell from the quipu that it is a real lake. I can picture it from the description.”
“Ah, just as I had hoped. I will take you to the place that I believe it to be. You will point out where the sunken gold can be found. We will be rich –golden statues and armour and jewellery.”
“I –uh- I thought you were talking about a different artifact earlier.”
“An amulet? Half an amulet, actually. I can’t believe that with the riches of El Dorado within your grasp, you’d be thinking about that trinket. But my dear, I promise you, if you help me find the gold, I will take you to the amulet. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Well, that’s settled, then. I must be off to my roost.” He was rewarded by the musical laughter of his dinner companion.
“I could find a cage in Challenger’s lab for you, I suppose,” she offered in an innocent voice.
“No, I have no desire to be your pet,” he returned with a mischievous grin. He wasn’t about to tell her that Black Robe was waiting for his return. He bowed and rose from the table. The heiress looked at the elevator after it descended, a pleased smile on her face. Her smile faded as the realization sunk in. If she left the plateau now, she’d be leaving her friends behind, leaving Roxton behind. It would just be a first step to sending a rescue mission to return her friends to civilization. But John wouldn’t understand why she had to go. How clearly she could imagine the hurt in his open face when he found out that she had vanished. She turned back to clear the table. She would leave them all a note to explain.
~~~~~
George Challenger awoke in the morning from a dream-filled semi-sleep, his swollen ankle throbbing far worse than it had the previous day. The violent pounding it had endured during his narrow escape had inflamed the injured joint. He clambered to his feet and limped to the entrance to the cave. The tropical sun was already steaming hot though his pocket watch assured him it was only eight o’ clock. He realized after a few steps that he would not be able to walk to the treehouse that day. He pulled out his knife and set to chopping a stout branch and fashioning it into a walking stick. His best bet was to make his way back to the path that he and Veronica had taken and wait until Roxton and Malone ran across him on their return. With their aid, he might be able to manage the final stage of the journey. By mid-morning he had found a place to wait and stretched out, rifle across his lap and aching ankle elevated on a fallen log.
~~~~~
By mid-morning Roxton had retrieved his pack and swarmed down the bluff in a more careful fashion than the hair-raising descent of the previous day. He proceeded cautiously, but there were no signs of yesterday’s attackers. The long-legged man made good time until he entered the closer confines of the jungle. After a brief time, he stopped and peered through the foliage at a sprawled figure lying ahead beside the path. Challenger! He ran forward, calling out the man’s name in a harsh whisper. The dozing scientist sat up with a start, his heart pounding in alarm. As he recognized Roxton, Challenger was torn between delight in seeing his friend and chagrin for having carelessly fallen asleep. He reassured the hunter that his injury was minor and was informed in turn of the fate that had befallen Malone. The two men agreed that they would push on together. It would be a near thing to reach the treehouse in daylight. They walked side-by-side, Challenger’s long arm slung over Roxton’s shoulder, his other hand leaning on the sturdy walking-stick.
~~~~~
Wrapped in her robe, the yawning heiress was brewing a pot of coffee when she was hailed from below. She leaned over the balcony to greet the man below.
“I’ll send down the elevator.”
After a hearty meal of fruit and preserved meat prepared by Salish, Marguerite went to her room to prepare for the journey. She had already discovered that her sore shoulder would not bear the weight of a pack so had slung one of Veronica’s bags over her left shoulder. Despite some misgivings, she discarded the sling. Though she would have to endure some discomfort, the sling would seriously impede her mobility. Raven glanced at the woman as she left the dining area. As soon as she disappeared he snatched up the note she had left lying on the table, crumpled it into a ball and thrust it into his pocket. When Marguerite appeared ready for the journey, Raven escorted her to the elevator with a flourish. She did not look to see that her letter to the others had disappeared from its place on the table. The elevator rumbled to the ground and the two began their quest. As Salish stepped into the lead, the woman behind was surprised to see that they were taking the path to the Zanga village. Less than an hour from the treehouse, they branched off on an overgrown path that Marguerite had never before taken.
~~~~~~
Anaconda slithered up the banyan tree oozing her forty foot length in coils along a sturdy limb. The sun warmed her olive and emerald skin as she scanned the limpid pool beneath her. The still pond was surrounded by giant looming trees and green reeds. It stank of the loamy smell of mud stirred up by creatures coming to drink and slipping away. She paid no mind to their movements; she was not hungry dozing on her branch. She dreamed of her kingdom in the underworld where she ruled over the land of the dead. There in the darkness below, she would stretch her length beneath the earth’s skin of mountains and oceans and jungle. Around the world she would burrow until her tongue could dart out to touch the end of her own tail. When she rolled over, the ground above would shake. All the dead were her charges and she ruled them fairly and with wisdom. Only the coming of a pachacuti could call her from her home in the earth and her place in the stars. Once again she had been called. Anaconda waited patiently on her limb in the sun.
~~~~~
Roxton and Challenger made slow progress, the older man leaning more heavily on the hunter’s shoulder with every mile they travelled. After three hours they stopped and had a brief rest, conversation lapsing as Challenger marshalled his strength. He was roused by Roxton pressing a hand to his shoulder, a finger to his lips in a demand for silence. George scanned the jungle and spotted some Vantu warriors well down the trail. The two men wriggled into the undergrowth, crawling until they were obscured from view. They listened as the head-hunters came closer, their low, guttural conversation clear but incomprehensible.
The voices lingered. It appeared that the natives had chosen a nearby spot for their own break. The two explorers lay silently as insects that inhabited the jungle floor merrily crawled over these new additions to their world. Challenger wished he had his specimen jars with him; a few of these insects were quite unusual. Roxton, however, could think of nothing but how itchy he felt when he knew scratching could draw attention to their presence. It was at least half an hour before the Vantus went on their way. Roxton rose to watch them disappear, He extended a hand to help Challenger to his feet. The hunter was anxious to resume their trek. Less than an hour to the treehouse; he could hardly wait.
~~~~~
Salish and Marguerite were now making their way down an overgrown path that the woman recognized as a game trail, not man-made. The trees gave way to an expansive swamp, a large dark pool of water in its centre. The path of thirsty animals showed where the firmer land was amidst the tufts of reeds and treacherous bogs.
Salish paused, “Look familiar?”
Marguerite frowned. “Not really. The lake in the legend was quite a lot larger, the land more open.”
“Ah well, things change a lot in a thousand years. The lake has shrunk, I expect.”
The frowning linguist scanned the area. “My best guess is that the centre of the lake would be around there somewhere.” She pointed at a part of the pool shaded by a giant banyan tree about ten feet beyond the landing where animals had stopped to drink.
As they reached the end of the path, he put out a gentle hand to stop her progress.
“I don’t want you to step on me by accident here. I’ll check out the gold. You stand guard. There could be predators.”
Marguerite’s jaw sagged as she saw the tell-tale shimmer of light that accompanied the metamorphosis of Salish. However, instead of a raven, the creature beside her was a sleek sea otter, an animal admirably chosen to swim and dig through the mud with its powerful claws. As she recovered from the transformation, she smiled to see the roguish face of the sea-going animal with its bright eyes and profuse bristling whiskers. With a swift slide that left barely a ripple on the water’s surface, he disappeared from sight. The wary woman loosened her pistol and gripped it in her left hand. The silence was broken only by the chirping of tiny tree-frogs.
~~~~~
The black Panther followed the scent of Salish and the woman down the trail. Despite the promise he had made to the Raven, the Spectre had no intention of leaving the trickster unsupervised. The feline paused, nostrils flaring as the scent showed that the pair had veered into the underbrush. He bounded after them.
~~~~~
Roxton and Challenger trudged along the trail. Their pace had increased since they had rejoined the main path to the Zanga village. Knowing that they were less than thirty minutes from home had filled them with a desperate energy. Roxton was both support for the flagging scientist and a scout for predators. He took in a breath when he saw a panther stationary on the path far ahead. As he watched the jungle cat slipped into the undergrowth. The hunter paused to load the chamber of his rifle. His red-haired companion brought his own weapon off his shoulder and looked questioningly at the younger man. Roxton leaned toward him speaking in a tense whisper.
“A black Panther. In the bush over there. Don’t know if it’s the real thing or the strange beast that tried to kill me yesterday.” He pointed a finger.
The two men eased closer on the lookout for a charge. When they got to the point where the black Panther had left the trail, the English lord hunkered down to read the tracks.
“Damn.” He swore in a bitter whisper.
“What is it?”
“These prints. Two people wearing boots. One of them is Marguerite. And that damn Black Cat is following them.” He stared up at Challenger with troubled eyes. The foreboding tightened around his chest like a vice.
“Steady, old boy. How do you know it’s her? What would Marguerite be doing out here?”
“I’d know her prints if I was blind. Somehow that damned Raven must have tricked her too.”
He plunged into the jungle as George followed. “Be careful, Roxton, that cat could be after us not her.” The warning was wasted on the distracted man in front of him.
Marguerite was alerted by the sound of swirling water as the dark furry mammal broached the surface and flipped onto its back, its strong front paws cradling a foot-high figure of a llama. He floated past her then rolled again to drag its prize onto shore. He left the figurine at her feet and returned to the water. She stooped to examine the beautiful workmanship and hefted it. Solid gold! For ten minutes, the otter brought up finely crafted pieces of gold, five gorgeous examples of pre-Incan art. The otter pulled his whole body onto the shore and became once more the handsome Spaniard.
“There’s lots more down there, some too heavy to carry. The lost gold of El Dorado.” Together they examined the gold pieces, paying no attention to their surroundings.
The black Panther closed within viewing distance, crouched down in the reeds at the edge of the swamp.
John Roxton sprinted along the animal run until he broke into the clearing. He saw Marguerite and one of the strangers who had attacked Ned, their heads as close as lovers. He raised his rifle.
“Freeze. Marguerite, get away from him. He’s that bird or the other guy.”
The startled woman turned with a jerk. “Roxton! No, it’s all right. I know he’s the Raven.”
The suspicious hunter eyed the dark-haired man, standing nonchalantly with a gold statue in his hand, a mocking smile on his face. A dark feeling of jealousy and anger crossed the Englishman’s thoughts, but he relaxed the pressure on the trigger.
The Spectre growled deep in his throat when he saw the hunter aim his rifle at Raven. All his plans were being foiled by this interfering do-gooder. Now he would never know what choice the woman would make. No, he must know. The man with the gun could not be allowed to ruin everything. The black Panther crept through the tufts of grass, stalking his prey.
Challenger limped well behind, outdistanced by the healthy Roxton. He slowed to a halt when he saw that the hunter had things well in hand. His eye was caught by motion in the grasses to his left.
“Roxton, behind you!” he shouted.
In a flash the panther was bounding in an all-out charge, splashing through the shallow water. Ten yards away as the Spectre ran under the large banyan tree he saw his target begin to turn in response to a shout. Too late for that; he’d be on the man in an instant!
Without warning the Anaconda dropped from her perch in the banyan tree onto the charging Panther. In one quick strike, she sunk her fangs into the neck of the beast and wrapped her body in coils around the cat’s muscular torso. The two animals disappeared beneath the surface for an instant in a huge splash of water. The three explorers were riveted by the spectacle before them. Raven reacted in an instant, clapping one hand across Marguerite’s mouth, the other, still holding the small golden statuette of a falcon, was wrapped around her waist. Unnoticed by the two other men he dragged her back along the trail.
The snake and the panther continued to struggle. The cat raked the Anaconda’s tail with its hind claws as the coils tightened around its ribcage. Every struggle, every breath allowed the serpent to squeeze a little closer. Its bite was not venomous but it allowed the boa to retain its grip. There was a moment of balance then the five hundred pound weight of the snake pushed the panther’s head inexorably under the surface of the water. A disturbance roiled the depths; there was an occasional sight of the snake’s coils then stillness. Roxton glanced behind him. There was only a small pile of golden relics. Marguerite and Raven were gone.
“Marguerite!”
A short distance away, Salish loosened his grip on the woman.
“Sorry, we didn’t get to finish this, but I’ve got to go.”
“The amulet! You promised.”
“Unfortunately my headstrong companion has angered some very powerful spirits. I am no longer welcome here, I’m afraid.”
“Tell me where to find it, at least,” she pleaded.
He hesitated, then responded to the desperation in her eyes. “It’s in a cave. Not that far from here. It’s dangerous. There’s -”
He stopped, distracted by Roxton’s shout.
~~~~~
Anaconda felt the struggles of the Panther diminish and cease completely. She continued to tighten her grip, making sure the cat would never breathe again. Suddenly there was an empty space where the Spectre had been. It was gone! She thrashed about in a vain attempt to relocate her prey.
Challenger watched as a strange substance rose from the waters and billowed up into the sky; a black cloud like a mist of oil hovered then was wafted by the wind to the south. It seemed to blow past Roxton who was racing along the path.
~~~~~
Salish whispered “Good luck,” and sketched a wide smile as he shimmered and became once again his bird-self. Raven picked up the golden relic in his blunt beak. As he rose into the sky, an oily mist formed a coating along his feathers, turning their iridescence to a matte shadow.
Roxton pounded up beside his love, raising his rifle to take a shot at the fleeing bird. The dark-haired woman stepped toward him. “No, don’t.” she entreated. “I don’t think you could kill him anyway.” They stood together and watched the black bird fly away.
~~~~
Challenger continued to watch the lake as the huge snake slithered along the animal path to the edge of the deeper water. The scientist’s breath caught in his chest as he saw the full length of the Anaconda, the iridescent green and black markings on its back a magnificent sight to the scientist. The serpent slid over the golden antiques on the bank and slipped into the water.
Anaconda swam down to the treasure trove beneath the water. She thrust her head into the mud and dug a hole through to her home beneath the earth. The pieces of gold lost for generations on the lakebed fell down to the floor of her domain, gifts to the gods now in the possession of the god of the underworld. She sealed the hole in her ceiling and the world was as it had been.
The hunter turned back toward the beautiful woman and eagerly scrutinized her, gently running his fingers over her hair to linger behind her neck.
“He didn’t hurt you?” She shook her head, filled with aching disappointment at the lost opportunity to recover the missing half of the ouroboros.
With Roxton’s relief came a return of doubt. “What were you doing here with him? You were supposed to stay in the treehouse.”
“He was showing me some of the lost gold of El Dorado. It’s beautiful – and valuable.”
“Why would you go out alone with a creature like that?”
The woman heard the growing hurt and frustration in his voice. She swallowed the words of apology and explanation that part of her wanted to voice. She needed distance and time to think. She knew one sure way to give herself the time she required.
“I just thought it an ideal opportunity to replenish the fortune that my friends so regrettably gave away.” She made sure her voice held the appropriate note of mocking scorn.
The silence and frown on the face of her lover indicated his pain and fury. “There’s something going on, isn’t there –something he said to you back when we first met him?”
Caught off-balance by his response, she laughed off the question. “Where do you get these wild ideas?”
“Another secret?” he ground out in a hoarse whisper. His eyes spoke of his disillusion. She turned away, tears filling her eyes.
Challenger hobbled toward them, shouting. “Did you see it - the snake? A green anaconda. Eunectes murinus. It was massive. Clearly longer than any boa yet recorded. And the markings…” The words tumbling out in his excitement, he was oblivious to the strained silence before him.
Roxton turned on his heel, interrupting the scientist’s description. “Let’s get back to the treehouse.” He strode past the pile of gold without breaking stride. Marguerite paused to put the relics in her bag, Challenger volunteering to take the larger ones. The silent hunter paused for a minute at the edge of the jungle until the others caught up. He offered a hand to the hobbling Challenger and they went off, followed a moment later by Marguerite, her shoulders slumped at the dark-haired man’s rebuff. It was a long silent trip back to the treehouse.
Raven sat in the treetop that he had circled back to. He had overheard the argument between the dark-haired couple, noticed her evasions and his anger. Curious, he thought. What choice would she make when the time came? He certainly did not know and he wasn’t going to stay here any longer to find out. Covered in the mist that had once been the Spectre, he rose into the sky and flew toward the setting sun. He had seen enough. Raven was hungry for the silver salmon of his homeland. He hoped that Whale would still be waiting for him.
<continued>