Lost City of Gold

by Rai Aren

  CHAPTER

  11

  Rick dashed towards the edge of the city, trying to stay low, and dodging behind buildings. He was panicked. He ducked behind a smaller structure, used as a storage area and typically unmanned, to catch his breath. The chanting had grown louder and more vigorous as the night went on. He glanced up at the night sky. The full moon was bright overhead. He cursed it. It wouldn’t help him stay concealed. But then he thought for a moment; that was probably the reason this ritual was taking place.

  ‘Sorry for cursing you, moon,’ he thought, ‘I’m just a desperate guy here. Any help you can give me would be great.’ He peered around the side of the building, searching for which direction he should go next to remain unseen. He was about to step out when a flash of light caught his eye. It came from the temple atop the pyramid. He went to the other side of the building to get a better look.

  The temple was still a fair distance from his location, but he could see two lines of people moving up the front of the stepped pyramid, all chanting, moving slowly. Every third step they stopped, and swayed rhythmically from side to side several times, then knelt down on their hands and knees, touching their foreheads to the temple steps. This was repeated again and again, accompanied by the primal chanting.

  Rick looked up. The top of the temple was aglow with a bright orange pulsating hue. At first he thought it was fire, but it didn’t have the telltale crackling or smoke from a fire and it was a uniform pulsation.

  ‘What the hell is going on up there?’ he asked himself. Then, he thought back to what Sergio had told him about this place – that their people experienced enlightenment and transformation here. ‘This must be what he was referring to.’

  Just then, the chanting grew louder, more intense, and the strange pulsating light increased in intensity and rapidity. Suddenly, blasts of light shot out from all sides of the temple. The people roared and cheered. Then, the two lines of people on the front temple steps began to part. A few minutes later, a large, tawny, spotted shape went racing down between them.

  Rick froze. It was a jaguar. And it was running down the temple steps out into the city. If everyone else is up there, it was going to have no trouble finding him, he feared.

  “Oh crap,” he whispered to himself. He needed shelter. Fast. In a panic, he ran back towards the only safe place he knew, his shack. No longer bothering to stay hidden, he tore off as fast as his legs would carry him.

  He rounded the corner of the building that stood nearest to his shack and cried out in terror before he could help himself. He stopped in his tracks, skidding on the rocks. “Oh my god...”

  Standing in front of his shack, not twenty feet away, was the jaguar, breathing heavy. All menacing muscle and imposing jawline. It saw him. Its head dropped slightly. Its amber eyes, bright and alive with intelligence, bore into him.

  Rick braced himself for the attack he knew would come. He stopped breathing.

  The animal uttered a low growl.

  Rick gasped and took a step back.

  The jaguar strode forward, then stopped, now facing him directly. It bared its long fangs

  Just then, Rick heard footsteps behind him. He turned his head, his body staying still. It was Sergio, followed by two other men.

  “Going somewhere?” Sergio asked, his eyebrows raised.

  Rick was stunned. “Why the hell are you so calm? Jaguar!” he said, muffling a scream, as he turned back around.

  Still the large animal just stood there. Its nostrils flared, growling as it held eye contact with him. Rick was unnerved by its behavior. By everyone’s behavior. He turned back to look at Sergio. His eyes plead with him.

  Sergio simply smirked at him.

  “What the hell is going on around here?” Rick asked. He was terrified and bewildered all at once.

  “I told you before, this city, that temple,” Sergio said pointing behind them, “is a special place to our people. Tonight is a night of transformation and enlightenment.”

  “I don’t understand,” Rick said, trembling. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “Help me!” he hissed through gritted teeth. “That cat is going to kill me!”

  Sergio and the other men laughed. “Not unless we ask it to,” he replied.

  “Excuse me?” Rick said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His heart was pounding so fast he thought he was going to pass out. He looked back at the jaguar, which still stared at him with a primal intensity. He saw the big cat’s heavy breathing, the size of its paws. He couldn’t believe how close it was. It stepped closer, the powerful muscles of its shoulders flexing as it did. Rick’s vision became spotty and he felt lightheaded. He hit the ground.

  CHAPTER

  12

  Rick awoke, startled. Brazilians surrounded him; many dressed in dark burnt orange-colored robes. They were staring down at him. Silent. He was lying on a smooth stone floor. He looked up at the ceiling; it was painted gold and covered with dark blue stars. He looked to the side, and noticed a large altar, also covered in gold. It was polished to a brilliant shine. He jumped up, panicked.

  “Where am I?” he asked. “What happened?” He had gotten up too fast, his head spun and he nearly blacked out again. A man behind him caught him just before he fell, and helped right him again. A woman standing next to him offered him a cup of water. He drank it thirstily. It was cool and good. He thanked her. She bowed her head, but said nothing.

  Sergio then stepped forward. “You are in the temple. We carried you here.”

  “What? Why?” Rick asked, his panic setting in even stronger. He looked around. The walls were a smooth stone, painted in the same gold coloring. Glyphs of people and various large animals adorned them. Above the altar, a square shape was cut out, open to the sky. Through it, the moonlight shone brightly overhead. Torchlight illuminated the room.

  “So you could see what you were originally trying to find,” he said, “and to test you.” Then he nodded to someone behind Rick.

  “Test me? What?” Rick cried out as he turned around to see a young man, wearing a lighter orange robe, being led to the altar, by two women wearing the darker orange robes. They stopped next to it. The man’s long black hair, which had been pulled back into a tight ponytail, was loosened by one of the women.

  Rick noticed that the young man was trembling slightly, though he stood his ground next to the altar. Rick’s mind raced with all manner of horrifying thoughts as to what would take place on the gleaming platform.

  Inside the chanting began anew, and those outside joined the chant. It grew louder, more energetic.

  “What are you going to do to him? What test are you talking about?” Rick asked as a sense of deep, gnawing dread gripped him. He wanted to run, but he was surrounded and there was a jaguar on the loose in the city.

  “You will learn there are consequences to actions, of sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Sergio said, his voice filled with menace. “Now be silent.” He placed his hands on Rick’s shoulders, then roughly turned him back to face the young man at the altar.

  Rick was wide-eyed in terror at the thought of what was to come.

  The young man was given a brass cup. He took a long drink from it. After a few moments, his head drooped and he began to sway slightly. The women on either side of him held him firm. Then, the young man lifted his head. His eyes were closed and his lips moved in a silent prayer. Suddenly, his eyes flew open. He pointed directly to Rick. “Muerte al intruso,” he spoke in a deep, raspy voice that belied his age and youth.

  Rick inhaled sharply. “Death to the intruder?” he repeated. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He tried to turn and run, but he was grabbed by two strong men and held firmly in place.

  “You’re not going anywhere this time,” Sergio stated, then snapped his fingers.

  Rick continued to struggle. The men forced him to his knees and then down flat on the ground. He yelled out in fear, kicking and flailing. Two more men came to hold him down. His hands and
feet were bound tight with rope. They sat him up and left him on the ground helpless.

  An older woman, also dressed in a dark orange robe, came up to the altar holding a large bronze jug. The two women standing beside the young man bowed.

  From a side entrance, two tall, heavy-set men, similarly robed, their heads shaved, came forth carrying a long, weighty chest, propped up with long poles resting on their shoulders. They set it down with a loud thud beside the altar. They took the lid off and reached inside. Struggling with the weight, they pulled out the body of a giant snake and held it in their arms stretching it out between them. It had to be over twenty feet in length. A massive green anaconda. Its scaly skin gleamed in the flickering torchlight, but it didn’t move. It was dead.

  A hush fell over the room.

  Rick’s skin crawled and he swallowed hard. ‘At least it’s not alive,’ he thought to himself, very relieved.

  The young man stood perfectly still, watching the ritual take place. The two women then took his robe off, revealing a tall, slender, but well-toned physique. He wore only a cloth around his waist and he had two identical tattoos painted the length of his arms – big green anacondas. He flexed and tightened the muscles of his arms. The tattooed forms seemed to undulate and move as though alive and slithering down his long, brown limbs. He looked down at Rick, bound on the floor, and glared at him.

  Rick shuddered.

  One of the women reached inside the chest, pulling out a large wooden box. She took it to the other woman, who opened it and lifted out a brass tray. It held a curled, green anaconda snakeskin, surrounded by several snake’s teeth. The first woman closed the box, and the tray was set on top of it. The other woman took the snakeskin from the tray, unwound it and held it up between her hands. The scaly skin seemed perfectly intact. She thrust it over her head. “Anaconda!” she shouted, looking over at the body of the dead snake.

  “Anaconda! Anaconda! Anaconda!” people around the room shouted in reply.

  Then, she turned to the young man, bowing before him. He bowed his head in response, then gazed out at the gathered crowd, who fell still and quiet. She took the snakeskin and wrapped it first around the young man’s neck, then under his arms, around his torso, his waist, and around his left leg, down to his ankle.

  The other woman took the snake teeth from the tray. The young man opened his mouth, and she placed them inside. He closed his mouth, then his eyes, and placed his hands in a prayer position over his nose.

  The older woman took the large brass jug, and lifted it above his head. She poured a thick, amber liquid over his head. It cascaded all over his body, until he gleamed.

  Rick felt his stomach lurch. He wanted to look away, but his gaze was fixated in revulsion at what he was seeing.

  Next, the two big men came forth, lifted the young man and laid him down gently on the altar. They placed the body of the dead anaconda on top of him, bending it slightly back and forth so it appeared to slither over top of him. Its tail was positioned so it was curled at his feet and its head was rested next to the young man’s on the altar. He visibly reacted to the crushing weight, but managed to keep his composure.

  Next, a young boy stepped forth and from a pocket in his robe, he placed a series of colorful stones down the length of the snake’s curved body. Then he took from his other pocket a large black stone flecked with gold, and placed it in the middle of the young man’s forehead.

  Another robed woman, younger and shorter than the rest, stepped forth holding a small brass pot. She dipped her finger into the pot and withdrew it. It was covered in a glistening, dark red substance.

  ‘Blood,’ Rick thought as his stomach lurched again. He was gripped in horror at the thought of what was to come.

  The woman proceeded to wipe a streak of blood across the top of the young man’s forehead and around the black, gold-flecked stone. She dipped her finger again and painted a line down his nose. Then she did the same across his cheeks, then his lips. Finally, she dipped her finger one last time and marked his eyelids, mixing the blood with the layer of amber oil-like substance clinging to most of his face.

  Then, the older woman picked up the brass jug and poured more of the liquid down the length of his and the snake’s bodies and all around the topside of the altar. Then, he and the dead snake were covered in a diaphanous sheath, overlaid with palm leaves. Another layer of the amber liquid was poured across the leaves. She set the jug down on the floor, reached into the pocket of her robe, and withdrew a handful of a powdery substance, which she sprinkled all over the leaves. She closed her eyes, a silent prayer crossing her lips. She opened her eyes, then nodded to a hooded man standing nearby, her face bearing a serious expression.

  The man turned and walked over to a woven basket with a lid that sat near the altar. He reached into the pockets of his robe and pulled out some cloth gloves. He placed them on his hands, then bent down and removed the lid. He reached inside the basket and lifted out a large round orb, the size and weight of a ten-pin bowling ball. The orb was slightly translucent, dark orange in color, with wisps of gold and white throughout it.

  Rick sized up the orb, took note of the gloves, then his eyes flashed with recognition. ‘I bet that came from the crystal gorge,’ he thought. ‘They must have shaped it into that form.’ He recalled Sergio’s overall apprehension when they were there, then the strong reaction he had to touching the amber crystal. Real or imagined, his right hand and arm tingled at the sight of the strange object. He instinctively rubbed his arm. The electric-like sensation and the vision of the swirling tunnel of light were still vivid in his mind. Then he remembered the glyphs he and Sergio had encountered in the mountain pass. It chilled him. He could only imagine what kinds of bizarre uses they had found for those preternatural crystals.

  The hooded man carefully lowered the orb from his gloved hands into a depression at the head of the altar, just in front of the young man’s head. Then, someone else came by with a tall torch. The man took the brass jug and poured some of the amber liquid over the torch and lit it. The flames shot to life from the combustible substance.

  Rick suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of dread. “Stop this!” he shouted before he could stop himself. The scene unfolding before him was surreal, macabre. “You’re not going to burn him!” Alarmed, he struggled against his binds.

  Sergio slapped him hard across the back of his head. “You have no say here, gringo,” he said menacingly. “Either you be silent, or we will make it so you can never speak again.”

  Rick’s shoulders slumped. He was gripped with desperation, but knew there was nothing he could do.

  The torch was afire. The hooded man took it over near the head of the altar.

  Rick shuddered again and drew his legs in closer.

  The lit torch was moved closer to the head of the altar. But instead of lighting the liquid on the young man, the hooded man shoved it underneath the altar into a hidden chamber. He then thrust his head back and let out a primal scream. The chanting started up again.

  Rick heard a sudden, loud whoosh, and the orb began to glow brighter and brighter, slowly spinning in place, and picking up speed. From it emanated a vivid light that zoomed outward. It spun and glowed and dazzled like a pulsar. The room became noticeably warmer. The chanting reached a fever pitch.

  Rick could see the young man on the altar breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring as the weight of the snake bore down on him, but he remained in place. Next, a group of hooded, robed men and women joined hands around the altar, chanting and swinging their arms up and down as they circled it in a slow rhythmic fashion.

  Through the group encircling the platform, Rick kept his eyes locked on the young man lying supine beneath the weight of the anaconda’s body. The amber liquid that covered them started to swell and bubble with the heat. The orb at his head spun faster and faster, its light now piercing like a laser. Suddenly, the young man began to convulse wildly beneath the giant anaconda. The light from the orb expanded, beco
ming blinding and white-hot.

  Rick recoiled from the glaring light, tucking his face to his chest. Then, he heard a high-pitched whine. He opened his eyes a crack to see the orb emitting a laser-like light directly on top of the young man, bathing him in its brilliance, like a tiny, burning sun.

  The young man convulsed so wildly, he and the snake lifted off the altar with a supernatural force. As they came crashing back down, they disappeared through the altar, and up from below came a rush of angry flames, licking their way towards the ceiling. The chanting grew more feverish. After a few more minutes, the orb abruptly stopped spinning. Its light vanished and the flames fell away, extinguished.

  The room and the surrounding area fell deathly silent. Those gathered round the altar moved away.

  Rick’s mouth was open in horror and shock. He had no idea what he had just witnessed, beyond human sacrifice. He shook. Tears streamed down his face.

  No one moved. No one said a word. Then, he heard it. A sound, as though something was being dragged across the ground. Then a hiss.

  Rick’s heart thundered in his chest. He frantically tried to shuffle his way backward, but Sergio stopped him. Two men grabbed him below the arms and roughly lifted him to his feet.

  Out from beneath the altar, emerging from the hidden chamber slithered a giant anaconda. It hissed, sensing the room around it. Then its head pointed in Rick’s direction. It lifted its head, bared its fangs and bolted straight for him.