by Sawyer Caine
He fell against me, and I let the trunk hold the weight of both of us as my legs were in no shape to do it. We lay there, recovering our shared breaths as best we could. When I finally felt him stand and reach down for my hand. It was all I could do to move. I was like a boneless piece of flesh just then.
“Bloody hell, Frederick,” I breathed against his lips when he moved to kiss me.
“Indeed my love, indeed,” he answered.
*
After breakfast, Frederick and I packed up our tent and helped Paulo with the mules. He was quiet and pensive that morning. I wondered what that could mean, but I assumed it was because he realized the potential danger that the pyramid might hold. I wanted to ask him what he knew about it, but he did not seem inclined to make small talk. Nekana was quiet as well, going about the work of readying her pack and seeing that the campfire was out. Nekai on the other hand, was jovial as usual.
Nothing seemed to dampen his cheerful spirits for long. He took his normal place in the lead as we began our trek toward the pyramid. It was a damp start to the day, the rains catching us just as we started along. That served to make this last stretch of uncleared path even more precarious as it hugged the edge of a steep drop down to the Orinoco, several hundred feet beneath us. Nekai was making slower time than he’d hoped as he had to be careful not to send us all plummeting down into the river.
“Damn this rain,” Frederick exclaimed, swiping his damp curls out of his eyes and settling his heavy pack into a more comfortable position.
“It will be over soon, it always is,” I said as soothingly as I could. Nothing, especially not a harmless rain shower, could ruin this day for me, and I was trying to hold onto that floating feeling for as long as I could.
“Nekai!” Nekana screamed in front of us and we both froze in place, the adrenaline coursing through me.
Just to the left and directly up above us on the steep cliff, a mud slide was careening toward the path at breakneck speed. It was between us and our young guide. Nekana tried to lunge forward to get to her brother, but Paulo took hold of her in the nick of time.
“Alfred, Frederick, get back. Help me with the mules. There is nothing you can do for him now. He will get to safety and we can make our way to him when it stops,” Paulo shouted.
We moved back a few paces, keeping our eyes on Nekai as he backed up, his eyes trained on the ravaging force of nature that came between him and us. With no warning at all, the ground beneath his feet gave way, and he was swept across the narrow path down over the side of the cliff toward the river below. He had no time to cry out or say anything at all. He was there, and he was gone.
Nekana’s scream of misery was barely audible over the destructive roar of the mudslide while it trickled down to nothing in front of us. It had taken Nekai, and we could have done absolutely nothing to help him. She jerked free of Paulo and ran over the edge of the cliff. We followed her, but as we stood looking down at the river below us, we could see nothing but the rapids and the remains of several tree trunks being tossed about in the raging water.
She sank to her knees with her head in her hands and gave over to piteous sobs, crying out curses or pleas in her native tongue while she shook with her grief. Paulo knelt beside her, his hands on her shoulders, pressing his forehead against the side of her face. Frederick and I could only stand there like outsiders, witnesses to their shared grief.
My belly churned, and my guts clenched into a knot as the bile rose in the back of my mouth and unspent adrenaline flowed through me. My throat felt as though it was closing off, and I couldn’t draw a good breath. He wasn’t with us. He’d gone over the edge into the river, and he would not be coming back. I felt small rocks on the ground beneath me as I sank to my knees on the jungle floor. My body was shaking and my hands clenched and unclenched. No words could describe what I was feeling at that moment.
It had been so sudden, so completely unexpected. No warning, no chance to say goodbye or I love you. Anything at all. He was dead. No one could have survived a fall like that, not to mention the suffocating liquid mud and debris that would have taken him over the edge. He’d likely been crushed to death beneath the water if the fall itself hadn’t killed him. At the very least, it would have knocked him unconscious, and he would have drowned when he sank beneath the rapids. His battered body would wash up miles downriver from where we were.
I don’t know how much time passed by while we all sat there together and grieved, out loud and in silent disbelief. Frederick sat next to me, his hand gripping my shoulder. His face was frozen in a mask of disbelief and his eyes full of unshed tears. I couldn’t ease his pain when I was still a prisoner of my own. Nekana screamed and cried and threw rocks into the river. Paulo tried to sooth her as best he could, but she would have none of it. After a time, she turned her rage upon me.
“You! Damn you and your grandfather before you to come here and take that thing, that cursed thing from the temple! If you had stayed in England, my brother would still be alive. Was it not enough for you to try your damndest to corrupt him? You had to see him dead as well? He was the last of my father’s sons. Who will lead our people now? Damn you to hell, both of you!” She tried to make a run at me and Paulo grabbed her, dragging her to the ground and holding her pinned tightly to his chest.
She struck against his huge biceps helplessly, then gave over to her grief again. And so we remained until evening fell. At long last, Nekana gathered what she could of her gear, thrown about as it had been when she’d been trying to get to Nekai. Paulo quietly asked Frederick and me to help him set up camp, and we did as he asked. We could go no further at any rate until the mud slide had time to dry enough for us to attempt to cross it. Paulo took Nekana over and sat her down beside the fire he had made, and then called to me to bring Frederick. He cleared his throat and spoke.
“I am no leader as Nekai was. I cannot hope to take his place. As I see it, we have but two choices before us. We have the pyramid within our sight, and I believe that I can get us to it. I do not have any knowledge of what we will find within it save the legends of our people. Nekana has never been to it before and neither have I. Nekai was in it once many years ago when his father took him and his brothers to it for a ceremony. If you wish to continue, Alfred, and I think Nekai would have wanted you to, then I will lead you. But I wish to leave Nekana here at the camp. I think it best for Frederick to remain as protection for her. I will not risk her death as well.”
Frederick and I listened to what Paulo had to say. But before either of us could speak, Nekana cleared her throat and sat up straighter to address the group.
“I will not be left behind. We have come this far, and we will go on and finish this business. When we are done, we will take the river back to our village. We will build rafts and go slowly, drifting with the currents. We will look for my brother’s body, and we will take him back to our father. First we will finish this, then we will let the river take us home.”
“Nekana…” Paulo began, but she held up her hand to stop him. Hell silent, then turned to me.
“Alfred, do you wish to go on?” he asked solemnly.
“Yes, Paulo, I have no choice. I must.” My voice sounded foreign and strange to me, tight and strained with my grief.
*
We made camp as best we could and put up our tents. Everything was wet and soggy. No one felt like eating, but Nekana warmed up some stew and sat the bowls before us. I had to force myself to swallow it against the lump that had settled in my throat. More than once I found myself brushing the tears away as I sat there numb to my surroundings. When darkness fell, the situation got worse.
Nekana had taken from her pack a little bag which held Nekai’s possessions. She was running her fingers over a bead necklace that had belonged to him, his hunting knife and other small items which he had brought along. It was more than I could bear to see and Frederick and I slipped away quietly.
He and I went to our tent and I lay down with him on his co
t, holding him tightly to me, unable to close my eyes and unwilling to rest though it was what my exhausted and grieving body needed. I could hear Nekana’s quiet sobbing and Paulo’s attempts to ease her pain with his words. I could not understand what he was saying to her, but the meaning was clear.
I could not remember a single time in my life when I had ever before felt that wretched. Each time I’d lost one of the members of my family, it had been a slow, lingering death that had given us all time to say farewell and tie the loose ends. It had been within the safety of Heathwood and in the arms of those I loved. This was nothing like that. I felt alone as I’d never before felt alone. Though I held Frederick, though I could easily hear our companions outside the tent, I was on an island adrift in a churning sea. It seemed that the dark waves would swallow me, just as the rapids had swallowed Nekai.
I felt the hot tears slipping down my cheeks and the slow grind of my breaking heart while time ticked on in its miserable rhythm. Why could it not have been me that had gone over? Why him, when he was so brave and strong and alive? I was a young old man, and he was still a boy. I silently cursed myself and this whole adventure. I’d had the gall to start that day so happy and pleased with myself, but I had a plan.
Tomorrow we would move forward. We would reach the pyramid, and I would put the idol back where it belonged. We would leave, make our way down the hillside to the river and build rafts. We would float down the river and look for him. We would find him and take him back to the village. I would offer myself to his father as a sacrifice in exchange for the death of his son on the grounds that they let Frederick go back to Tucupita. I had no desire to live past this journey. Nekai was dead, and it was no one’s fault but my own.
Frederick was young and full of life. He had so much to offer to someone. He would find another and love again. I couldn’t damn him to a lifetime of staying with me while I grieved myself slowly to death to pay for the life of another who had not deserved to die. I would die here in the village, and Frederick could go back to London or to Texas where his family still lived. He could go on and find the happiness that he deserved. I deserved nothing but the fate I’d resigned myself to. Nothing would stop me from making the offer of my life for his. Nothing would change my mind.
At first light, I would inform Nekana of my intentions and leave the rest to the hand of fate. I trusted that she would agree as she now hated me more than any other living man. I had no doubt she would be happy to translate my wishes to their father. I would keep it from Frederick. He should not have to suffer. She could take him back to Tucupita with the raftsmen and get him to the mission. They would help him secure a flight back to France, and he could make his way to London or wherever he wished to go.
I closed my eyes and remembered the sound of Nekai’s voice when he’d spoken my name, the feel of his skin as I’d held him against me in this very tent the night before. It didn’t seem possible that his vibrant life had been snuffed out in a matter of seconds. I let the grief take me and I sank into it, longing for him. I knew that I would never be happy again, and I welcomed death as a means to end the pain.
*
Sometime before morning, I could bear the stifling heat of the tent no longer. I scooted myself free from Frederick and slipped outside. The fire had burned down to embers, and I went to sit down with Paulo who was crouched beside it, smoking a pipe and staring at the flickering coals.
“You must forgive Nekana, Alfred. She is bowed with grief over the loss of her brother. She didn’t mean what she said to you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I will give their father my blood in exchange for the loss of his life. It is no more than I deserve. Will you and Nekana see that Frederick makes it back to Tucupita? It is my only request. He is innocent in all this. It is my fault that we are here…”
“How is it your fault, Alfred?” he interrupted me. “You did not take the idol. You are doing a noble deed to return it. My people are grateful for you for making this trip to bring it back to us. Nekai will be a hero among our legends for his sacrifice. Alfred, do not stain his death with your blood as well. Their father will not want that and neither do we.”
I sighed and took the pipe he proffered to me, drawing from it that same, thick and aromatic smoke I’d shared with the shaman on our first day in the village. It did nothing to clear my conscience, but it did still my trembling hands and ease my aching head. Paulo and I sat silently for a long time enjoying the company of each other and taking comfort from it. I had not yet changed my mind but wondered if I could really leave Frederick.
Dawn crept up on us and slinked over the horizon of the jungle canopy like a stalking tigress, forcing us to begin another agonizing day of grief. Paulo stood up and stretched, then reached out a hand to help me stand. He went into the tent to awaken Nekana, and I slipped back into our tent to rouse Frederick. I knew I needed to wash up and when I went back to the campfire, I took the water crock from Nekana and offered to go back to the little stream we’d crossed to fetch water for the breakfast. She gave it over to me, and I lugged it back down the path.
I knelt down beside the small babbling stream and sank the crock beneath the water, letting the natural flow of the water fill it. I stiffened and stood quickly when I heard a noise behind me. I quickly took up the jug and made my way back to the campsite, having no desire to be eaten by some animal on its way to drink from the stream.
Nekana took the jug from me, and Paulo heaped wood upon the fire. I watched them as they ducked back inside their tent to fetch out the remainder of their belongings. It was still dark at our campsite, the sun having not yet made its way high enough to filter down through the canopy to us. I pushed the flaps of our tent aside and went in to watch Frederick as he dressed and pushed a comb through his curls.
I sank down on my cot and held my head in my hands. Grief was rolling over me again, and I honestly didn’t know if I could make it through another day. Frederick came to kneel down beside me as the tears took me again.
“Frederick, I can’t… I don’t even want to…”
“Hush, my love. You must get hold of yourself,” he urged, his voice betraying the panic he was feeling. “I need you to be strong. I am utterly at a loss here in this strange place and you are my strength. If you fail, then I will be without anchor.”
“Come, eat,” I heard Nekana calling from outside and I rose, taking Frederick’s hand in mine.
The meal had been anything but pleasant, the three of us in no mood to eat but doing it from habit and necessity. Frederick and I broke camp and packed up the mules, then took our places in the line behind Paulo, leading the mules as he was the one blazing our trail now. From time to time, I found myself looking back wistfully in hopes that my beautiful wild prince would emerge from the jungle, but I knew that was a futile wish. We had been traveling along for nearly three hours when we stumbled, quite suddenly, into a clearing.
We stood before the pyramid. Paulo had gotten us that far, but now he was at a loss. We’d taken an hour to circle the base all the way around, but we could find no way to enter it. He scratched his chin and looked thoughtful. Nekana stared at the ground and made no effort at all to be helpful, but at last she lifted her eyes and made a small noise in her throat.
“I see a way in, look up there!” she said.
We looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a small, cave-like opening several layers up on the side of the pyramid. The structure was made in the traditional step-style of mud bricks. We could climb the outside and make our way up. It would be easy to do as long as we didn’t encounter any traps or hidden dangers.
Paulo instructed us all to leave our packs behind, and he tied off the mules. I carried with me only the small duffle bag that held the idol. Paulo took his machete and had a pack that held several large sticks of wood we could use as torches. Nekana took her knife. We climbed up the side toward the little door. It took us quite a while to make the climb, as the brick had eroded away in some places, and we ha
d to scramble for a handhold, but at last we all stood on the platform before the entrance. Great wooden doors that seemed to be carved of acacia were closed over the opening.
Paulo pushed them open, then stepped back as dust billowed out to meet us. We coughed against it and waited until the air had cleared, then Paulo lit one of the torches and stepped inside. We followed him at a safe distance but a sudden gust of wind blew the doors shut almost as soon as we entered.
Frederick cried out in fear and tried to get them open again. He beat upon them and tried in vain to pull them back but nothing would give. “Alfred, we are trapped.”
“Frederick, calm down. I have my machete, and we will hack them open if we must. Now let us go on,” Paulo urged.
He raised the torch and held it up so that we could see where we were going. Ahead of us was a long passage with beautiful paintings done by the Warao people who had lived and worshipped here in the past. Paulo and Nekana lingered to look at the paintings, and Frederick clung to me. He was claustrophobic and hated this closed-up place. I was inclined to agree with him at that moment.
As we were about to move forward, the doors shook and rattled as if something was trying to get in to us. Nekana and Paulo turned and he held up the torch, his face strained and fearful.
“The spirits, it must be them!” Nekana gasped, reaching for Paulo and standing behind him.
“Alfred, Frederick, get behind me!” he cried, but we had no time to move.
With one final rattle, the doors flung open and slammed against the walls with a resounding thud of wood on stone. Light poured into the chamber and blinded us. Standing in the doorway was a figure outlined in shadow, with the rays of sunlight spilling around it. I could not see at first who it was, but as the figure took a shaking step out of the sunlight, my fears melted into nothingness, and my heart soared to heights I’d never before imagined possible.
