by Justin Sloan
“We made good progress today,” Nora said. She had wrapped a bandana around her head and her jacket around her waist. She stretched her arms. She was visibly sore and in pain, and her eyes gleamed against the fire.
“You’re not cold?” he asked.
“Not as cold as you, apparently. I’m more of a cold weather person anyway.”
Rohan still remembered the chill of the wind in the Ural Mountains, and shivered at the thought of it. He’d take a nice, warm Californian day above that anytime.
“How far?” he asked.
She shrugged. “We should be close.”
“You said that this afternoon.”
“We had to make some detours. The rainforest changes. We can’t make straight paths. We have to come upon it diagonally. But I’m fairly certain we are moving in the right direction.”
“So tomorrow, then?” Rohan asked.
Nora studied the starlit treetops. The stars were barely visible through the canopy. “If we wake early, then yes.”
“Good,” Rohan said, as he searched through his pack for a granola bar. “The more time we take, the more likely it is that Altemus will succeed in taking over the world.”
“Tell me about him,” Nora said. “Altemus, that is.”
Rohan laughed, and then he sighed. “It’s funny. You’re the first person I’ve ever met who would actually believe me. Most people would call the insane asylum and try to commit me if I told them the truth about him.”
“Well, we have that in common.” She smiled, and nodded at him to continue.
“My fiancé had a mental illness. He was her psychiatric doctor. When she died, I thought it was her disease, but it turns out she was a botched sacrifice to open the gates to the afterlife. I didn’t know it at the time, though. Altemus convinced me that he could bring her back from the dead, and well, I believed him, or thought it was at least worth a try. After racing across Russia and the Middle East, and fighting my way through the afterlife, I’m here.”
Nora listened as he told her more about his earlier journey—about how Corinne’s ghost had become attached to him, how he learned to control the dead, and all about Altemus’s wife Anne. Nora listened without judgment, nodding and shaking her head.
“You’re almost as messed up as I am,” she said. “Fate must have brought us together.”
Rohan laughed as the fire crackled.
“The other woman in my house... who was she?”
“First date,” Rohan said.
Nora looked taken aback, and then she burst into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish. I took her out for Moroccan, we hit it off, and BAM! Turned out she was possessed.”
“Good for you for trying.”
“I suppose,” Rohan said, sighing. “It’s getting late. We’ll get up early tomorrow and put all of this behind us soon enough.”
A gaze lingered between them, and Rohan wished her a good night. He crawled into a sleeping bag by the fire. Even though he was exhausted, he had a hard time falling asleep, startling at every sound in the shadows just outside the clearing.
***
Birds sang above and other sounds crashed in the jungle, walking Rohan at dawn. He was surprised to find Nora’s eyes open, looking at him with a pleasant smile.
“You know you mumble in your sleep?” she asked.
“Hope it wasn’t anything incriminating.”
“Not exactly.”
He frowned at that, then looked up at the orange sky. Rays of sunlight shot through the trees to the east, and his stomach rumbled.
While he finished his granola bar, Nora put out the remains of the smoldering fire.
The air was surprisingly warm already, so Rohan put his jacket in his pack.
“I’m holding you to your promise from yesterday,” Rohan said, grinning.
“Promise?”
“That today’s the day we reach our destination.”
Nora smirked. “And if I break it?”
Rohan was about to say something witty when he heard a branch snap, and then the twang of a bow. He grabbed Nora just as an arrow whistled past her and stuck in the trunk of the kapok tree.
As if from thin air, a group of men and women appeared from the shadows in all directions with guns pointed at them. They did not look happy to see them.
“Hold still,” Rohan said to Nora.
Nora ignored him, instead circling around and saying in Spanish, “What do you want?”
One of the men said something in response, and his face hardened. He and Nora traded a heated exchange, and a Rohan couldn’t help but feel their lives were in very serious danger.
“Let me guess,” Rohan said. “He wanted to give us a warm welcome, and he insists that we follow him to his home for tea.”
“Not quite,” Nora said. “He says he remembers me and asked me to return what I stole.”
“That’s not the answer I was hoping for.”
“I told him to go screw himself.”
“And that’s an answer that might get us killed.”
“He said they’re not going to let us go until he has it back.”
“Right. You can stop translating now. This is getting depressing.”
Rohan and Nora stood with their hands raised, staring at the semi-automatic rifles aimed at them. Rohan realized he had to think of something, or they were goners.
“We don’t want trouble,” he said, searching for any sign of spirits nearby he could call on, even long-dead corpses.
He sensed something, but it was something he had never contacted before. It was as if a wall blocked him from communicating further.
The men with the guns started to shout, and then one stepped forward, lifting his rifle to shoot.
Something hit the man in the temple, and he dropped. He crashed to the ground and his gun fired into the canopy, sending a flock of parrots screeching into the sky.
The others looked around, confused, and two of the men began shooting into the jungle.
Another rock connected, dropping one of the shooters, and then a man appeared from the trees. He hit the second shooter with a knee to the face so that the man fell with a crunch before Rohan turned to the others.
The stranger had long black hair and wore all beige. His back was to them, and Rohan couldn’t make out his face—only a blur as the man flipped around the area, knocking out men left and right.
As more shots rang out and bodies dropped, Nora pulled Rohan with her.
“We don’t want to be here if he loses,” she said.
Rohan ran along with her, glancing back as the man continued to fight. “Who is he?”
“Something tells me we’ll find out soon enough,” she replied, running faster.
Chapter 8: Discoveries
They ran as fast they could, not looking back. Behind them, gunfire and screams filled the rainforest. Rohan couldn’t get the mysterious man out of his head.
Who was he? Where did he come from?
But if there was anything he’d learned in his travels, it was to not ask questions when it was time to run.
Nora’s stamina was almost unlimited. He followed her, but had a hard time keeping up.
They ran and ran, until the sun was high in the sky. Then they rested for a few minutes and ran some more.
At every turn, Rohan expected armed men to jump out from behind trees and shoot at them.
But none did. They heard no more gunfire. No more footsteps in the forest behind them.
Even so, they spent hours circling back on their trail and looping in strange directions to throw off potential pursuers. By the time they stopped, they had only traveled a few miles—most of the day had been spent in diversions.
Moonlight filtered through the leafy canopy above and sprinkled the ground in a soft, silver glow. It reminded Rohan of the light spirits gave off, and for a moment he sensed a presence, the same presence he had sensed earlier. But this time it was stronger. He felt as if he could reach out an
d touch it, just a few yards away. He imagined sending thoughts toward it, and then listened for a response, but nothing came.
He couldn’t just sit here. He had to find out why he was sensing a presence.
Nora, who was setting up a fire, looked up as Rohan started walking. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t answer her, but instead parted several ferns and pushed forward.
“Rohan, we need to stay together,” Nora said sternly, following him.
“I sense something,” he said, not slowing down.
“An attacker?” she asked, glancing around.
“No,” Rohan said, parting more plants. They stopped at a large, circular stone resting in the shadows. The stone was flanked by several tall pillars that looked man-made and ready to crumble.
Rohan strained and pushed the circular stone. It was heavy, though, and the soft earth under it gave him no leverage. Nora joined him, and after several seconds of intense pushing, they pushed the stone aside and watched it roll down a hill until it crashed against a tree.
In its place, a starlit stone path lay ahead, swathed in a faint, silvery mist. The stones were unevenly placed, and some lay crooked or even cracked.
“This is it,” she replied. “This has got to be it.”
They continued on, each step leading them further into the mist. The ground sloped downward, but they kept a moderate pace until they arrived at the vine-covered mouth of a cavern. On the wall above the opening was a circular pendant with curved lines through it that reminded Rohan of the crop circles he’d seen in magazines as a kid. The trail of silver mist wafted into the cave and grew wider and thicker the closer they got to the entrance.
The presence of spirits was strong. Rohan couldn’t mistake it. Though he’d only controlled spirits a few times, he’d know the feeling anywhere.
Tingling danced across his skin and he imagined controlling spirits with his mind, willing them to fight for him.
“Do you feel it?” Rohan asked.
“Yes,” Nora said. “There are spirits here.”
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
They entered the cavern, and the temperature dropped. Nora lit a lighter and they moved in the dim glow. Frantic scurrying sounded from the walls, and Rohan tried not to imagine what kinds of animals were moving around them.
Then, as if out of nowhere, he noticed patterns in the dim light, like spider webs that danced in the darkness.
Pinpoints of glowing blue were all around them on the ground, pulsing quietly. At the center of each web was a dusty pillar, standing tall in the bluish glow.
“Interesting,” Rohan said, walking over to a web.
He reached into the center of the light and brushed the dirt off the pillar, revealing more light. It glimmered in bright patterns, glowing like veins inside the rock, in the same pattern that Rohan had noticed above the cave.
“This is definitely Incan,” Nora said, running her hands along the newly revealed lines. She touched more of the webs, and soon the dark chamber was aglow with curvy lines of light. “Impressive,” she said. “But what is it?”
Rohan shrugged. “You’re the one with the archaeology degree.”
Nora took her time, exploring the dark chamber with an expression full of wonder. The glimmer in her eyes seemed to make them dance, and Rohan couldn’t help but smile at that.
“The Incans were famous for their mathematical precision,” Nora said. “Crop circles, terraced hills. Legend has it that they used the sun as their guide for many of their everyday projects.”
“Okay, but what exactly are we looking for?”
“Something mathematical. Something beautiful. Something almost geometric, maybe?”
“Gotcha.”
Rohan walked forward, so focused on looking at their surroundings that he tripped over a rock and landed on his knees. Looking down, he saw the fall had brought him face to face with a pillar. Three blue dots glowed faintly. He brushed away a layer of dust and their glow intensified. As he examined them closer, he noticed they were concentric circles.
If this was on the pillar here… he wondered.
“What does that pillar over there have?” he asked.
Nora bent over and checked her pillar. “This one has two circles.”
They searched the area and found another pillar with three concentric circles on it. Nora stood next to it, waiting, while Rohan returned to his original pillar. He put his hands over the center circle, and Nora did the same on her pillar.
The ground quaked, then collapsed, and the pillar next to Rohan fell away into a deeper slope. It rolled down into darkness and then made a crash that reminded Rohan of a bowling ball striking pins. He heard deeper rumblings from below, as if a path were being cleared in the shaking.
As the quaking subsided, a dirt-covered staircase appeared in the ground, leading downward.
“Your lighter have a lot of fuel left?” Rohan asked.
“I don’t know if we’ll need it,” Nora said, pointing. The dark path began to light up with more blue light—the quiet light of spirits.
As they walked down the path, he and Nora examined the walls. They were scattered with drawings of men and animals. A Spanish phrase that Rohan couldn’t decipher had been scrawled in spray paint.
“We’re here,” Nora said. “The words say ‘Beware the Lost City.’”
“How could the lost city of Vilcabamba be underground?” Rohan asked.
Nora gestured around the room and at the drawings on the walls. “They say it was once one of the largest cities in South America. The only thing that can explain it is the supernatural.”
“And why does that not surprise me?” Rohan asked, sighing.
They descended the stairs, careful with each step. At first they smelled only freshly stirred dirt and ground rock, but as they went deeper, a familiar scent found Rohan’s nostrils—sulfur. The smell of death.
“There’s something down here,” he said, warning Nora. “I don’t like it.”
“I sense it too,” she said with a nervous glance his way. “If you’re scared, we can turn back.”
“I’ve seen worse. If you’re scared, you can stay behind and leave the world-saving to me.”
“And let you have all the fun? No way.”
Her words were brave, but Rohan felt her body slip closer to him as they pushed further down the path.
At first the walkway was like any underground passage. Stone walls crumbled apart in places to reveal dirt and vines behind them. But as they descended, the walkway widened, until it opened up into a room that spread in two directions, one to the left and back, and one to the right. The floor was made up of stones, but some were missing here and there. The vines hanging from the ceiling gave the area a feel like a scene from an action-adventure movie.
Nora found a torch on the wall and lit it with her lighter. With a flash, the entire area was aglow, and all the torches on the walls bloomed in blue fire.
“This is getting weird,” Nora said.
“Either we’re making progress, or we’re walking toward our tomb,” Rohan said, shaking his head.
Nora elbowed him. “I thought you’ve been through ‘harder’ stuff in Russia.”
“Jury’s still out on that,” Rohan said.
They looked at each other and nodded as they walked forward.
“Which way?” Nora asked as they stopped at a fork in the path.
“Always left,” Rohan said. He remembered Senna and how she used to read spiritual energy books. Good vibes always came from the left.
“I say always right,” Nora said.
“Sure, but you were the one running away last time. We go left.”
She stood for a moment, debating, then followed. After a few minutes, they reached a large stone door with an emblem of a jaguar on it.
They pushed on the great door, and it groaned open.
As they stepped through, their mouths were agape as they took in what lay before them.
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br /> An entire stone city stretched for miles. It looked like it was taken right out of the history books: Houses made from stone and adobe. Thick, gray retaining walls. Terraced fields that were fallow but clearly looked as if they had once been covered in grass and quinoa.
Though the city was underground, it was hilly, and there were mountains in the distance. Above, the earthy ceiling was covered by a thin veil of silver light.
“So we made it,” Nora said, smiling. “The lost city of Vilcabamba.”
Chapter 9: So Above, So Below
“I was right,” Nora said. “It’s all supernatural.” She took in the city with both wonder and fear.
“This is officially the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” Rohan said.
“So above, so below,” Nora said.
“What?”
“The ancient Hermetic philosophy. The city has been transplanted. But it’s exactly as it was when it was aboveground. The only thing that has claimed it is erosion.”
“But this doesn’t make sense.” Rohan pursed his lips. “Who would’ve had such magic back then?”
“Magic—if that’s what you want to call it—or our connection to the spirit realm has grown weaker over the years,” Nora said. “But the answer is likely a man named Francisco Pizarro.”
Rohan furrowed his brow, doing his best to remember that name. “The Spanish settler?”
“Conquistador is a better word… or murderer. He was responsible for killing the Incan emperor Atahualpa, and sacked Cusco back in his day.”
“And the connection here is…?”
She gave him a look, and it dawned on him.
“Ohhh.” Rohan frowned. “You’re sure? He was a necromancer?”
“Whatever he was, the legends say he had dark magic. Natives didn’t actually believe Europeans were gods simply because, as textbooks would have us believe.” She laughed. “Oh no, I’d say it had a lot more to do with their ability to call on the dead and manipulate spirits, like you and I can.”
“If we were alive back then, we could’ve been gods,” Rohan said, considering that.
