The Black Orchid
Page 13
Nekai stood in the doorway, wet and bedraggled but alive, framed on either side with the wild and barbaric paintings of his ancestors.
Chapter Fourteen
“It can’t be!” Nekana cried as she shoved past Paulo and ran to Nekai. She placed her hands on either side of his face and pressed her forehead against his. “You’re alive! You’re alive!” she sobbed.
Nekai slumped to the ground at her feet, exhaustion taking him. Nekana pushed his tangled and dirty hair back from his face and clung to his neck while they held to each other as if still unable to believe they could do so.
I could not find voice with which to speak, nor call forth any words which would do justice to the feelings that enveloped me. I had never been a religious man, but it was clearly evident to me that what I was experiencing was a true miracle from God above. No one could have survived a fall into those churning rapids filled with debris. It just wasn’t possible, and yet here he stood before us, alive and breathing.
Nekai held his sister as he struggled to get back his ragged breath. He raised his dark eyes and reached out one hand to touch me. I fell to the floor, taking his hand and pressing it against my face as if to convince myself that he was indeed alive and not a ghost come back to haunt us.
His poor body was bruised, battered, and covered in abrasions. A long, jagged cut marred the left side of his face. It would more than likely leave a scar, yet it did nothing to detract from his beauty but rather enhanced it for me. Despite all of this, he seemed to be all right.
Frederick was with us on the floor, his hand pressing against my shoulder in an attempt to get my attention. “Nekai might be injured. I wish he’d not tried to climb up after us. He clearly needs to rest. He might have internal damage from the fall,” he warned.
“Right you are,” I replied. “How will we ever get him back down?” I wondered aloud.
“We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” Paulo said. “Come. Let us go on while his strength lasts. It is a blessing that he has been restored to us alive and well, but we cannot be on this pyramid when night falls. The guardian spirits will possess us and drive us mad.”
“But Paulo, he can’t possibly go forward now,” I protested.
“Alfred speaks the truth, Paulo,” Nekana agreed as she rummaged through her bag. “Let us sit here and take a small meal. I have with me some dried meat and a bit of fruit. We have our canteens. Nekai can take his ease, eat a bit, and I will look him over for injuries while he tells us what happened to him.”
“We do not want to be trapped here after dark!” Paulo exclaimed, his face a mask of both worry and what appeared to be slight aggression.
“We won’t be,” Nekana insisted. “Just let him rest a moment and let me see to him.”
She stretched him out on the floor, motioning me to support his head on my knees as she slid her hands carefully over his arms and legs, feeling for broken bones. Finding none, she then pressed carefully over his chest, stomach, and groin, watching his face for some unspoken sign of pain. From time to time, he would wince a bit and she would ask him if what she was doing was painful, but he would shake his head no. At last, she sat up, relieved that she’d found no sign of further trauma.
“He seems to be intact and without any other injury. The Gods are to be praised for this. I will burn spices on the top of the pyramid to give them thanks for this gift,” she breathed, swiping at the tears that hung in the corners of her wide eyes.
We helped Nekai sit up, though he leaned heavily against Frederick and me while Nekana gave him some dried meat and fruit to eat, encouraging him to drink heavily from her canteen. Paulo paced restlessly about the corridor and made himself busy propping open the wooden doors with fallen stones. At long last, he could bear the wait no longer and came back to us.
“Nekana, we must move forward. If he cannot go with us, then he will have to remain here and Frederick will stay with him. Can he tell me where in this place the room of idols is located so that Alfred and I can go and find it, replace the stolen idol, and then return to all of you?” Paulo asked.
Nekai, sensing the nature of the conversation, pushed at our hands and stood on unsteady legs. He tried to take a few steps unaided but wavered and nearly fell. He reached for me, and I put my arm around him to steady him. Frederick rushed to offer help and supported his other side. Nekai faced Paulo and spoke in a firm though somewhat raspy voice.
“He is telling Paulo that he will go on with us, and he will not be left behind. He is weak, but he wants to go forward. Alfred, will you and Frederick help him until he gets his strength back?” Nekana asked.
“Yes, of course we will,” I answered.
Paulo seemed placated, and he took up his torch. We followed after him as best we could, picking our way among fallen stones and stepping over wide fissures in the floor. Cool, damp air rose from those fissures, and I couldn’t help but imagine horrible falls into the nothingness beneath us into the jaws of insects or creatures that might live in those cracks in the earth. I shuddered with that visual and continued on.
As we moved, the path inclined slightly upward. Nekai struggled a bit but seemed to be getting some of his strength back. I could not say that I wasn’t enjoying the chance to support his substantial weight a bit. Having him back in my arms again, if only for a short time, made the previous day’s grief worth every shed tear and every gut-wrenching moment.
By and by we noticed the paintings that decorated the walls of the passageway, bright reds and greens, blues and yellows upon the flat, brown stone. The paintings were of a rather violent nature showing scenes of sacrifice with bound captives dressed in red flowing robes and wearing headbands with feathers. The captives resembled shamans in their decorative costumes, and I had to wonder about the nature of the paintings.
Nekana answered the question for me before I could give it voice. “Our people have a dark and violent past. It was the custom, in times of trouble, to sacrifice the youngest son of the shaman. It was their belief that this young prince of the tribe, given over to the Gods as a gift, would appease them, and they would take away whatever ailed the tribe.”
I fought to contain my instinctual gasp of shock. They had murdered their own boys as victims for sacrifice? I glanced over at Nekai and found Frederick doing the same, a frown on his pale face. He was thinking as I was. Nekai was his father’s youngest son, and he would have been the victim of choice for the Warao people if they still engaged in such barbaric practices. Frederick’s eyes met mine for a moment, and he shook his head, his lips pressed in a tight line. I took the warning and said nothing further. They no longer did such things, so we had not to worry about it.
Paulo stopped moving ahead of us and called to Nekana who went immediately to him. “There are doors opening onto rooms on either side of the passage. Nekana, ask your brother if he remembers this place.”
She asked Nekai, but he didn’t seem to know where he was any more than we did, and he shook his head no. Paulo grimaced and seemed once more to be rather annoyed. After a moment of appearing not to know quite what to do, he dropped his pack on the ground and rummaged through it for the other torches he’d brought. He lit them and handed one to Frederick and one to Nekana.
“Come, Nekana. You and I will search the rooms to the right and Frederick, Alfred, and Nekai can search the rooms on the left. We will be within voice of each other and can call for help if needed,” he said.
I took full support of Nekai as Frederick held the torch and entered the first room. They were like dark, gaping mouths opening on each side of the corridor with cool, stale air drifting from them. The rooms seemed to beckon to us like silent waiting sentinels. They looked like traps to me, but I had naught to fear from them. Not yet.
As we stepped across the threshold, Frederick lifted the torch and waved it about. “My God! Look at this, Alfred.”
I stepped closer, still holding Nekai tightly as if I feared something would reach up and grab him away from me. Lying b
efore us in heaps and piles upon the cracked tile floor were gold, precious jewels and moldering wooden boxes of ivory, jade, and treasures of immeasurable wealth. We stood dumbfounded. This must be the store house of the Warao tribe’s wealth. If anyone from the outside was ever to discover it…
“Drat these cobwebs!” Frederick cried, waving his hands around in front of his face wildly.
“Careful, love, I see none,” I insisted and wondered what he was feeling. I had not to wonder for long.
I felt upon my face and neck the soft, gentle wisps of what seemed like feather-soft touches. I could hear whispers of conversation, the voices male and young. The words were in Warao, but I understood the meaning behind them. I could feel the warning in my very blood. These were spirits, and they were protecting their treasure.
“Alfred!” Frederick cried out, swiping madly at the things as they surrounded us, appearing like tendrils of smoke, winding around us and brushing cold against our skin.
“Calm yourself, Frederick!” I pleaded with him, putting my hand on his arm.
Nekai stood silent, his face contorted in grief. He lowered his head and shook it sadly. I wondered at his actions but didn’t take much more time to consider them. I grabbed Frederick’s free hand and, taking Nekai in my other, pulled them out of the room into the corridor. We moved in this fashion from room to room.
Some of the chambers were empty. Others had treasures or weapons stored in them. We had reached the last of the rooms when a shout from Paulo drew us to attention.
“Come, we’ve found it!” he cried.
Frederick led the way across the corridor, following the sound of Paulo’s voice and the faint flicker of his torch. We emerged into a large, vaulted room with a ceiling painted bright red and a floor of intricate, mosaic tiles. Along the walls of this room were slabs carved out of the stone walls. At the head of each slab was a small niche holding an ivory idol just like the one I had. Lying on the stone slabs beneath each idol was a body.
The bodies were moldered away to nothing, mummified in the heat of the Amazon and the constant temperature of the pyramid, dried out and preserved in this dark burial chamber. The remnants of their ceremonial headdresses and red robes remained visible on some of the bodies.
“Is this the burial place of the tribe’s shamans?” Frederick asked.
“No, Frederick. These are not the shamans. These are the princes of the tribe given in sacrifice,” Paulo answered, his voice sounding tight and strange.
When I turned to him, his eyes were wide, his mouth open slightly and his expression severe. It made me somewhat uneasy, as his whole demeanor had as of late.
“Think of it, Nekana,” he said as he turned about, observing the dead princes lying on their stone slabs, guarded each by his own idol. “So many young boys went willingly to die for the tribe, to be given to the Gods as servants. Imagine such an honor,” he said breathlessly.
“It is barbaric!” Nekana answered, reaching out to grip her brother’s hand. I’m sure she thought, as I did, been Nekai lying on the stone slab with one of those damned idols standing over his head, a machete raised. I hated that image and could not imagine what would have made them carve the idols to stand like that over their dead.
Nekai bit his lip as he looked around at the bodies. He knew what they were and what it meant. A tear slid down his face, reflecting in the flickering torch light. He turned away from me and hid his face against Nekana’s neck. She soothed him with her arms, shushing him and whispering words of comfort.
I could not watch him in grief like that. Frederick seemed the only one of our group with any sense at that moment as he was walking about, looking for the slab that was missing its idol. “Alfred, did your grandfather mention this room in his journals?”
“No, Frederick. He only said that it was a room of idols. He didn’t say anything about the dead princes,” I answered.
“Let’s find the one that is missing its idol, replace it, and get the bloody hell out of this place!” Frederick insisted.
Nekana handed me her torch and nodded at me to follow after Frederick. He took one side and I the other. Holding up my torch, I searched for the empty niche above the body of a prince but found none.
“Here!” Frederick cried suddenly. “There is an empty niche here!”
I ran to him, followed by Paulo. We saw the empty niche but empty also was the slab beneath it. In the deep dust it was obvious that in the distant past, the niche holding the idol had been disturbed. I wondered if the disturbances in that dust were from my grandfather’s hands as he removed the idol.
“Put it back, Alfred, and let’s go!” Frederick insisted.
“But where is the missing prince?” Paulo mumbled aloud.
I shifted my pack to the ground and rummaged about in it for the idol. When I lifted it from its wrappings, the torches flared up. I could feel the feather-soft touches of the spirits again and hear their insistent warnings in that language I couldn’t understand. A fear so palpable it was like an acrid taste on my tongue weaved itself into the fiber of my being, and I fought to control my shaking hands while I replaced the missing idol in the niche.
“Frederick!” Nekana screamed suddenly. When I turned to see what she was so distressed over, I saw my love crumple to the floor and Paulo standing over him with a raised torch. He’d struck Frederick over the back of his head.
“Paulo, what are you doing?” she cried.
He turned to face Nekana and Nekai, his expression venomous. I made a grab for Frederick’s fallen torch but when I stood with it, I received the brunt of Paulo’s thrown fist directly in my left eye. I stumbled back and tripped over Frederick’s prostrate form. The last thing I could clearly remember was the sound of Nekana screaming, just before my head struck the corner of the empty slab behind me.
“Paulo, no… no… please don’t hurt Nekai!”
Chapter Fifteen
I woke from that nightmare into a reality that was far worse than the waking dream. I was bound upright to a stake anchored into the stones beneath me. I could see the stars above in the night sky and understood that I was on the flat platform atop the pyramid. On the ground next to me was Nekana, sitting up against the base of a similar stake, her hands tied behind her and a gag in her mouth. I turned my head from side to side as best I could, but I saw no sign of Frederick.
Nekana gasped and struggled, trying to tear free of the stake that bound her. I followed the direction of her horrified stare and beheld a sight that ran my blood cold. Nekai was bound face down upon a large, stone altar a few feet away. Paulo stood to the side of the altar, facing us. He held in his hands, a large, machete after the fashion of the ones the idols held in the pyramid. Paulo’s eyes were dark and fierce, his mouth set, his expression violent and crazed. When he spoke, the voice that came forth was almost unrecognizable and dripping with hate.
“A prince is missing and must be replaced. We must make sacrifice now to give our tribe back the force it once had when we took our strength from this pyramid. The Christians came to tame us and weaken us. We must get back to our old ways.” Paulo reached down with one hand and placed it on the back of Nekai’s head, lifting the boy’s long hair and pulling it to one side, exposing his neck.
The torches in their niches all around us on the rooftop flared up and the spirits brushed forcefully against us, their whispers desperate and urgent. I felt dazed as I saw the ghosts of the murdered boys, their dark eyes and hair so like Nekai’s. They weren’t trying to harm us. They were trying to drive Paulo away from Nekai, but he brushed them off, his face set and determined.
“With all the sons of our shaman dead, I can be free to marry the daughter of my father’s brother. The shaman has no more sons, and I will lead in his place. Nekana will be my wife, and I will restore our tribe to the strength it had when we made our sacrifices and ruled in this place as a power,” Paulo cried as he lifted the weapon above his head.
I could feel the helpless hands trying to untie
me, the sad, mournful voices and faces speaking in that old language, pleading, and begging for release.
Paulo stood above Nekai, chanting in that same language. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but Nekana was going completely mad on the ground next to me, fighting and straining against her bonds. Nekai turned to look at me, his face stained with tears, his eyes pleading as he called my name one last time.
“Alfred…” My heart broke, and I screamed behind the gag as Paulo brought his vengeance down.
It failed to make contact with Nekai’s neck, falling with a clatter against the tile as Frederick shoved Paulo aside, a burnt out torch in his hands. Before Paulo could stand again, Frederick swung it and made contact with the side of Paulo’s head. I could not see my love’s face, but I could hear his voice when he spoke. I could hear the power, the masculinity in it and it went right to my heart.
“Mister, you picked the wrong American to tussle with. I’ve been a weak man for too long and I’ve forgotten myself, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to keel over and let you hurt that boy or my lover. You may go straight to hell, you selfish bastard, and when you get there, tell the devil Frederick Warren sends his regards!”
Paulo staggered back toward the edge of the rooftop, the spirits swiping at him, surrounding him so thickly that he appeared to be wearing a swirling mass of thick smoke. He managed to get to his feet somehow and continued to swing ineffectively at them, attempting to chase them away.
“No, get away, no…!”
He stepped back a bit too far, and the spirits surged against him. With a scream of terror, he lost his footing, flailing helplessly about for purchase but finding none. He plunged headlong over the side of the pyramid. I could hear his body striking the stone steps as he fell into the darkness below us.