Savage Lands

by Andy Briggs

  Even with the new evidence, going to Lord Greystoke was the only viable option Werper had left. He had spoken to Greystoke’s father on a number of occasions as he tried to obtain the geological survey of the area that Tarzan’s parents had gathered. They had believed in the Opar legend too, and rumor had it that they’d found the site, but when Werper learned of their plane crash he concluded that angle was a lost cause.

  However, his tales of treasure stayed with Greystoke, and when he inherited the title, Werper suddenly had access to the resources he needed. He was closer than ever to finally locating the civilization that would etch his name in the history books, and the wealth, which would wash away all his worries. All he needed were the Claytons’ maps of the area.

  Years ago, a Frenchman named D’Arnot had emerged from the wilderness saying he had found the rightful heir to Greystoke living in the jungle. Werper concluded that if a son had survived, then there must still be aircraft wreckage. The previous Lord Greystoke had publicly discredited D’Arnot, and the Frenchman vanished before Werper could question him.

  When William Greystoke revealed that a group of loggers claimed to have found the aircraft, it was the last piece of the jigsaw Werper needed. It was as if fate had orchestrated events for him to find Opar so he could reveal it to the world. But now he was being forced to walk in the opposite direct after being so teasingly close to it.

  Kerchak selected a shallow area of the river rapids to cross, and the Mangani followed in single file. Werper and Reyna were the last to cross. Reyna used a sturdy branch to help keep her balance on the slick rocks. Werper watched her carefully pick her route while the apes continued on ahead without waiting for them.

  Werper looked longingly behind. He could just see the smoldering volcano teetering over the treetops—a beacon signifying his thwarted ambition. He glanced at Reyna, who wobbled as she fought to keep her balance in the fast-flowing river. He’d be damned if he was going to play babysitter and turn his back on his dreams. Without making a conscious decision, Werper turned back and scrambled up the slope. He heard Reyna shout his name, but he didn’t care. He would reach Opar before nightfall; that’s all that mattered.

  • • •

  Idra and Robbie used flashlights to light the way. Without them, the darkness would have been impossible to navigate as they descended a wide staircase that curved first one way, then the other.

  Robbie occasionally cast the light across the walls, revealing long faded carvings, the grooves filled with moss and fungi. Every few yards there were peculiar circular structures, like archways, that looked like they were supporting the walls, but the tunnel was carved into solid rock and didn’t need the support. From behind, it was Jane who realized what the structure was.

  “It’s a ribcage!” she exclaimed.

  Robbie looked around, trying to find what Jane had spotted. “What?”

  Jane ran her flashlight beam across the curving tunnel wall. “This. All of this. We’re walking through the gullet of a giant snake. That’s why it’s winding so much.”

  Now she had pointed it out, it became obvious.

  “That is seriously weird,” said Robbie in a low voice. He was not enjoying the experience and already found the air cloying. “We should turn back.”

  “No,” Tarzan said firmly. “We go on. Lights off.”

  Robbie shook his head. “There’s no way I’m walking blind through this.”

  “No light,” snapped Tarzan impatiently.

  Not wishing to upset the ape-man, the group complied and the passage was plunged into utter darkness.

  Robbie laid on sarcasm in an attempt to calm his nerves. “This is a great improvement.”

  “Stop,” Tarzan commanded.

  Idra suddenly gasped. “It’s beautiful!”

  As Jane’s eyes adjusted to the bioluminescence, the cave was suddenly, magically illuminated in shades of blue and green.

  Robbie had to admit he was impressed. “Wow! It looks like the Milky Way.” He reached out. “I can almost touch it.”

  The darkness heightened their other senses, and they all became aware of a faint rumble emanating from deeper down the tunnel.

  “What is that?” whispered Jane, suddenly aware their own sounds would be amplified too.

  “Sounds like water,” said Robbie. Then, just above that noise, something new, almost like faint voices. “But that’s not …”

  “Targarni,” snarled Tarzan. “Come.”

  He took the lead as the tunnel opened up into a large cavern adorned with stalagmites and stalactites. The Targarni’s recent passing had disturbed the path through them and over the narrow natural bridge that spanned the white-water river.

  “There’s no way you would get me on that,” said Jane firmly.

  Robbie spotted something familiar discarded at the side of a large still pool. He crossed to pick it up.

  “Stop!” Tarzan commanded, but Robbie had already knelt down to retrieve it.

  “It’s Clark’s walking stick.” Robbie recognized the crutch Mr. David had carved. “They definitely came this way.”

  “Robbie!” said Idra urgently as she snatched her rifle off her shoulder and pulled the bolt back, chambering a round in one fluid move. Robbie saw what she was aiming at—a large white mass swimming through the clear pool toward him. He’d been attacked by a crocodile before and suddenly realized his mistake. He dropped the stick and hastily retreated from the water’s edge. To his relief, the creature didn’t breach the water, but sank deeper, vanishing into the gloom.

  “How can a croc live down here?” he asked with a tremor in his voice.

  “That didn’t look like a crocodile… .” said Jane.

  “It can survive as long as there’s food,” said Idra. “I met a guy once who swore he had seen crocs in the middle of the desert, living in an underground oasis.” She nodded to the torrent passing through the center of the cave.

  “That doesn’t sound real,” said Robbie.

  Idra arched an eyebrow at him. “Really? Then you won’t believe it if I told you there were sharks in the Congo River?” Robbie shook his head dismissively. “Bull sharks. They can survive in fresh water. They’ve even been found all the way up the Amazon. I saw them once.”

  Jane didn’t believe a word of it, and neither did Robbie, but the conversation had spooked him. “I don’t want to hang around,” he said.

  “Me neither,” Jane agreed, pushing her fear of the bridge aside. “Let’s continue.”

  As they crossed the bridge, Jane had visions of an albino crocodile leaping out to snatch them away, but nothing happened. They approached another archway in the far wall, and Tarzan motioned for them to keep low.

  Creeping to the edge, they allowed their eyes to adjust to the brighter light flicking in the huge cavern. The bowl Tarzan had toppled over during his last venture inside had been moved to the center of the cave and relit, bathing everything in a bright light. They all marveled at the ruins scattered around the cavern, but their immediate attention was drawn to the large stone snake statues.

  “They liked their snakes,” said Robbie seriously.

  Idra squinted as she looked up at the snakes’ eyes. “The eyes are onyx. Valuable, I bet.”

  The entire plaza was deserted, yet the sounds of Targarni grunts and snarls echoed from a set of three archways in the far wall, each leading forty-five degrees away from the other. The group carefully descended the stairs, hunkering low as they ran between the buildings. Idra kept her rifle at hand, flinching at every flickering shadow.

  They reached the sacrificial altar, which was strewn with bones—some animal, some more humanlike. Suddenly, Jane realized where stories of cannibals came from. She tried not to think about it and turned her attention to the three archways as they tried to isolate from which one the noise was coming.

  “This place is a
maze,” said Robbie worriedly. “We could get stuck down here.”

  The sounds seemed to echo, not just from the tunnels, but also from all around the cavern. Identifying their origin was almost impossible.

  “There,” said Tarzan pointing to the right-hand tunnel.

  “How can you tell?” asked Idra doubtfully.

  “I can smell Targarni,” muttered Tarzan grimly.

  They carefully peered down the tunnel, keeping a safe distance behind the ruins for protection. The way ahead was lit by yet more bioluminescence. It seemed the deeper they traveled, the brighter it got. It was getting hotter too.

  Then the world shook with a resounding wail as another earthquake struck. The floor vibrated so violently that the layer of dirt and grit looked as if it was hovering over the flagstones. The wall Jane was leaning on shook. All around them stone was grinding on stone. Jane expected to see cracks split open in the walls and ground, but it was solid, immobile rock. The ruins, however, were not so enduring. Stone blocks toppled from positions they had held for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. All across the plaza the weaker structures crumbled into piles of rubble, decimating the history contained within them.

  A close, grinding sound made them all turn in unison. The stone snakes trembled before one slowly cascaded into the other and they toppled toward Tarzan and his companions in what felt like graceful slow motion. Driven by gut-wrenching panic, Robbie and Idra leaped one way, Tarzan and Jane the other, as the statues slammed into the floor with a thud so loud it shook everyone’s ribcages. Jane felt grit strike her face, and swallowed a scream.

  The stone reptilian head missed Tarzan by an inch, and the ape-man’s shock quickly gave way to a bark of triumphant laughter. “Histah not get Tarzan,” he muttered.

  They had no time to collect their breath before they heard a series of cracks, like ice breaking.

  “Run!” yelled Robbie who was the first to spot the danger. The quake had severed several massive stalactites on the roof. They came hurtling down, shattering on the floor. Some were colossal—over three stories high—and once the larger pieces fell, smaller ones rained down in their wake.

  Robbie was the first to race toward the tunnel Tarzan had chosen, pulling Idra with him. Tarzan was next, with Jane staggering behind. She covered her head as stones pelted her. Several dagger-sized stalactites smashed so close that she heard them whoosh past her ears.

  Robbie reached the sanctuary of the archway and turned back, waving Tarzan and Jane closer.

  “Hurry!” Then he looked up in horror. “Move! Move! Move!” He said the last rapidly, his eyes fixed upward.

  Jane risked looking up, and in doing so wasted precious seconds. A section of roof directly above her, the size of a bus, was falling away. It was covered in razor-sharp stalactites, which would skewer her before she was crushed to death.

  Tarzan slowed his pace so he could reach Jane. His grip around her arms was so strong she thought her bones would shatter. With Herculean force, Tarzan hurled Jane toward Robbie. He then bounded into the tunnel himself, just as the section of roof smashed down, creating a cloud of dust that choked the tunnel.

  Then the earthquake stopped. Unlike on the surface, where the noise and shaking abruptly subsided, underground it continued for half a minute, as a bass-heavy echo.

  It took several moments for the red dust to settle. Everybody started coughing. Idra broke out her water flask to rinse the dirt from her mouth and passed it around. They had made it through, but the cave-in had blocked their only escape route. They had no choice but to continue onward.

  The tunnel sloped down gently and ahead they could see the bioluminescence turn red. Robbie was not concerned about the lighting—he was fighting a mounting panic and talking increasingly fast as he fought to keep control. “How are we going to get out? There’s not much point in rescuing Clark if we can’t get out.”

  “We’ll worry about that when we find him,” Jane replied calmly, although she was finding Robbie’s panic infectious. “One problem at a time.”

  “It’s getting difficult to breathe,” he moaned, opening several buttons on his shirt. Not that it helped. He was already starting to hyperventilate. Jane had noticed the air was thicker, but hadn’t wanted to stoke his panic.

  They passed a room dug out from the side of the tunnel, whose purpose Jane couldn’t guess. But Tarzan stopped them and pointed. It was filled with equipment. Some was old, scavenged over decades, while some was very familiar.

  “This is our stuff!” Idra exclaimed. She began opening plastic crates and emptying bags.

  “Anything useful?” said Robbie hopefully.

  Idra held up some electronic devices Werper had brought along. “Not really.” Then she opened another huge pack. The second Zodiac raft unfurled. The engine was missing, but the pump and oars were there.

  Robbie shook his head, trying to be jovial despite the terror he was experiencing. “That’s fantastic. Just what we need. What about weapons?”

  Idra shook her head. There wasn’t even an extra flashlight they could use. Tarzan guided them onward, and with each step it was clear the atmosphere was definitely changing. It grew even hotter and a persistent ambient rumble grew in volume, accompanied by the sound of agitated Targarni.

  “We’re walking straight into the volcano!” Robbie exclaimed as beads of sweat formed on his face. “I’m gonna kill Clark for making me do this!”

  He stopped in his tracks, but Tarzan gripped his arm tightly and spoke in a low voice. “Stay calm. No going back.” The simple honesty of the words suddenly calmed Robbie. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. Once Tarzan was satisfied, they continued on.

  Closer to the end of the tunnel, they could see it opened into a cavern that dwarfed the previous one. A dull red glow illuminated the far walls, and they all cautiously crouched at the opening, expecting it to lead onto a bubbling magma chamber in the heart of the volcano.

  However, they were wrong—they were not walking in to certain death. And for a moment, they were utterly speechless at the astonishing sight that greeted them.

  17

  The map was damp with sweat when Albert Werper pulled it from beneath his shirt. Since being handed the recovered maps he had never let them out of his sight. He laid them on a broad rock and twisted them around to match his surroundings, aligning the volcano with any other features he could. The only geographic marker of any significance was the valley far behind him, but it gave him confidence that Clark had been correct and that he was on the right track.

  Since slipping away from the Mangani he had run and stumbled as fast as he could back toward the volcano. In his imagination, the ferocious Kerchak was dogging his heels, determined to bring his charge back to safety. But in reality, the apes didn’t care about him and he hadn’t seen a single sign of pursuit.

  Rather than retrace his steps to where the ape battle had occurred, Werper used the map to head directly to the black squares that indicated the ruins. At least he hoped they did. As fatigue began to overwhelm him and his legs throbbed from the effort of climbing the mountain, he began to wonder if they hadn’t misinterpreted the small markings. Could Clayton have accidentally made the marks? Had he added them as a joke? That family had a warped sense of humor, and Werper wouldn’t put it past him.

  The forest he was in formed part of the upper belt of the volcano. Beyond that was a wasteland of black stones, then the cone itself, which was discharging more smoke than ever. He could see flecks of molten orange lava spitting over the rim and he hoped that Thunder Mountain was not ready to erupt just yet.

  Another earthquake struck with colossal force, sending the trees around him violently shimmying. He expected another avalanche to dislodge from the cone, but it didn’t. He also anticipated the jungle coming alive with thousands of fleeing birds and monkeys, but it was deathly silent. The absence of wildlife was startling. The black
scree across the ground came up to his ankles, and grains trickled into his boots. In places, Albert Werper felt as if he was walking on the moon.

  He was desperately thirsty, but the only stream he came across was black, polluted by the volcano. With the thoughts of fame and fortune burning feverishly in his mind, Werper forced himself onward. He kept praying the maps were accurate; otherwise he would undoubtedly die out there. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he had met a man who had single-handedly found his way out of the jungle. If that man could do it, Werper could too; he only hoped that if that were the case, nobody would be waiting at the other end to smother him with a pillow.

  He lost track of time, and when the wind changed direction the volcanic plume obscured the sun, plunging the mountain into an eerie twilight. On he clambered, often on his hands and knees, and he was forced to tear foliage aside with his bare hands. Without a machete, he was slowed to a crawl, but still pushed on until his fingers bled.

  Then he stubbed his toe on an angular stone. Werper stared at it for a long moment and then tears coursed down his cheeks, but not from pain. Such straight lines were not a natural formation—they had to have been made by the hand of man. He knew, even before he pulled back the last veil of undergrowth, that his dreams had come true. He had found the lost city of Opar.

  • • •

  Tarzan gazed at the view across from where they had emerged out of the tunnel and, for a second, thought he had stepped back into the jungle.

  The entire cavern had once been an enormous magma chamber the size of a sports stadium, but was emptied countless years ago, leaving a vast space. The floor and walls were rich with verdant plants that had taken root in the fertile soil, but rather than perish due to the lack of sunlight, they basked in the red glow of a huge magma channel that cut through the middle of the chamber. The molten red surface bubbled as it constantly churned, patches of the surface rapidly cooling into black rock before convection sucked them beneath the surface as the entire channel disappeared through one wall. It was fed by a spectacular lava-fall that plummeted from just below the roof, creating a breathtaking sight.