“We are not moving fast enough. Find the place, or stay out here and die.”
“I was trying to find the next reference.” He curled his arms over his head, “Hitting me won’t help, it slows us even more.” The threat withdrew and Jacob checked the book and the compass again. “If we head due west, we should be there in less than an hour.” He pointed west.
The rest of the company forged ahead, slashing through tangled undergrowth of vines and tropical plants. Jacob pushed back to his feet and followed. He had long since stopped beating himself up over taking the job; they did enough of that—just for fun, he suspected.
They slogged through the jungle in the worst humidity. Up there. the oxygen seemed to be thinning and the heat rising with every step. They arrived at the place where the temple should be just as the hour was closing and the dark looks directed at Jacob had become dangerously more frequent.
Every young archaeologist dreams of such a find, an undiscovered temple, untouched by marauders. Yet, there he was with those very marauders who were about to decimate the ancient shrine. If he could work out how to find it, and if he could open it when they did. He took the ancient papyrus out of its protective plastic sleeve, feeling nausea that he was exposing a piece of history to the elements. He sat down on a fallen tree after checking for snakes, scorpions, spiders and ants and looked at the instructions on the page. He touched it reverently, reluctant to make contact, but he needed to follow the glyphs.
“Why the hell are you sitting on your arse? Where is the bloody temple? If you got The Ciro lost, The Ciro will shoot you and find some other stupid college boy to come up here.” The bellow of anger came from a man Jacob had come to loathe and fear. Ciro waved a sharp knife blade in front of Jacob’s face. “The Ciro will be happy to cut out your weedy little book nerd eyes first.”
“It is there, in front of you,” Jacob pointed a trembling finger to an extremely dense patch of undergrowth. “Your men will need to cut away the vines and plants that are attached to it. I…I need to work out the last part of the message.” Jacob held the papyrus up like a shield and leaned away from Ciro’s personal armoury.
Ciro spun on his heels and began yelling at the other men in the group. Jacob breathed as deep as his aching lungs would allow and tried to calm his racing heart. He felt blood start to drip from his nose.
“Damn!” He tried to pinch the flow before it became too heavy, but a few drops fell onto the last words of the scroll. “Damn!” Jacob juggled the papyrus and held a bloody rag to his nose as he tried to put the precious artefact back in the plastic cover, succeeding only in tripping himself up and dropping the scroll. He fell to his knees and picked it up, smearing some dirt in with the blood. “Shit! How the hell did I get in this mess? This papyrus alone is the find of a lifetime, and I can’t even celebrate that, or protect it.”
He leaned his head back on the log behind him to try and stem the trickle of blood from his nose and felt a drop of sweat ooze down his face to his jaw. It fell in a slow plummet to the papyrus clutched to his chest, mingling with the dirt and blood. He heard the plop and leaped up trying not to damage it even further. The men cutting through thick green strands and fronds yelled in triumph as their machetes made the thunk of metal hitting rock.
“Over here, book man. Open the door for us,” Ciro’s offsider yelled and swung his arm in a come-hither gesture. The pile of torn plant matter was huge and a space had been cleared in front of what was obviously an entry way. The pungent scent of sap cleared Jacob’s sinuses.
“Okay, there should be four slots where you have to place a blade, a club, water in a bowl and the papyrus scroll.” The men scraped dirt and moved small rocks, and soon found the four slots. “The items have to be in the correct slots for it to work.” Jacob looked for symbols on the rock slab of the door and indicated where each item should be placed. When he slid the rolled parchment in the last slot, nothing happened.
“What the hell are you playing at? The Ciro is not happy with silence.” Ciro had grabbed Jacob by the throat and slammed him back against the door. The door moved a fraction and Ciro was distracted. He dropped his hold and Jacob fell to the ground. “Push. Push! I am not paying you to stand around gawking.”
The others stepped over Jacob as he crawled to one side. They started to push the ancient door. Dirt slid onto the ground, spiders and bugs ran in frantic search of safety as their quiet perch was disturbed. A deep tearing groan, as though the earth were being torn apart, escaped from the opening and the door slab fell to the floor with a mighty slam. A waft of vile gas poured out into the faces of the invaders. Most of them collapsed, coughing and clawing at their face and throat. Jacob watched in horror as several stopped breathing. Ciro stepped over them and strode to the open door.
“Lights! Get the bloody lights over here.” The able bodied members of group moved to obey him. Light soon flooded the corridors that had been dark for many centuries as Ciro pulled Jacob to his feet. “Lead us to the treasures.”
Jacob stumbled into the entry with Ciro prodding him from behind. He pulled the papyrus from its slot in the door and moved into the left hand branching. Through twists and turns they finally arrived at a new door. This one sealed with what at first appeared to be a wooden door, but turned out to be gilded. The men hacked it open with axes and Jacob felt every blow in his gut. They stepped back and let the stale air out of the room before they took their torches and lamps in.
The room was filled with treasures beyond measure. Jacob’s jaw dropped in awe as he soaked up the wonder of art and instruments of daily life. The men had begun assembling lightweight barrows that they had carried up in backpacks. Jacob wandered around the room, touching spears and food containers that still held the dehydrated remains of what might have been grain or fruit. He ran a hand in worshipful caress along the side of a boat and pondered for the merest second why a boat would be needed so high in the mountains. He longed to open crates and catalogue everything, but he had no chance. Crates were busted open and their contents dumped unceremoniously onto the floor.
“Where’s the treasure? This is all crap. It’s just bloody household junk.” The men were throwing things around, and Jacob felt his gorge rise at their indifference to the historical significance of it.
“It’s all treasure, damn it. Every piece of this is worth a fortune, even that wooden bowl.” Jacob yelled at a man about to throw a bowl across the room. The man shrugged and dropped the bowl in the barrow like it was a disposable party plate. Jacob groaned and put his head in his hands. He moved away to the shadows and found a small niche in the wall he was leaning against. He felt compelled to slide the papyrus into a slot that seemed made for it. As soon as he did, the wall began to move. Jacob sucked in a lungful of air before the rotten gas of the sealed room wafted over him.
“What’s in there, book man? Get out of The Ciro’s way.” Ciro shoved Jacob to the side and attempted to squeeze through the narrow gap. Hired for their bulk and muscles, none of the men could get through. Only Jacob was slender enough to slide into the space if he went through sideways.
Ciro pointed at the gap. “Get in there, book man, and tell The Ciro what treasure it holds and no more boxes of horse shit.”
Jacob forced his narrow frame into the gap, turning his face over his shoulder to squeeze his head through. The rock caught at his ears and scraped his cheeks raw as he fell through onto a soft layer of fine powdered dust. He coughed, sneezed and stood up. Reaching back for a lantern from one of Ciro’s men, he held it high and a thousand glittering reflections sparkled back at him.
Jacob felt as though he were in the den of forty thieves, surrounded by wealth beyond his greatest imaginings. He was in paroxysms of awe, everything he had studied and dreamed of finding, were here before him and he had brought the forty thieves along. A small statue stood on a pedestal in the centre of the room. A scroll and a ring sat on the platform of the pedestal to either side of the feet, and Jacob held his lamp up for a better
look.
“What’s in there, book man? You take too much time, and The Ciro gets impatient. Talk, boy, or we seal you in here and you die.”
“I am trying to work out how to open the wall. Just give me some time.” Jacob touched the statue and sighed, “I am so sorry, my lady. Your temple should have been left in peace.” A tear slid down his face and dripped on to the papyrus at her feet. Jacob lifted the papyrus and the ring. “I will try to save these, at least, little Goddess.” He looked at the ring in his palm then slid it into his mouth and swallowed. Anywhere else, it would be found. “I will hide you.”
The statue of the goddess felt warm in his hand and he slid her inside his shirt. He looked around and picked up a few other very small items and swallowed them too. The thieves and The Ciro had begun thumping the wall and calling out. Jacob felt panic. He moved to the wall, looked along it for the opening mechanism and called through.
“I need the papyrus to put in a slot on this side so it will move. There is a lot of dirt built up, so it won’t move much, just enough for you to get in, I think.” He reached a hand through, and someone put the papyrus in his hand. A steely grip encircled his wrist. He felt the pressure on the bones and a tingle in his fingers as the circulation ceased.
“The Ciro does not like to be deceived, book man. Open the door or die.” Ciro released him.
Jacob pulled his hand back through the opening with the original papyrus and rolled the new one inside, muttering under his breath, “Do it or die, do that or die, do the other or die. I deserve to die for this stupidity.” He slid both scrolls into the slot on his side of the wall. The mechanism groaned and the wall shifted about ten centimetres, forcing the built up dirt and dust back into a thicker taller pile.
The men squeezed through before the wall stopped and began grabbing anything shiny and shoving it in sacks. The wall had moved a little more with the pressure of the beefy men pushing against it and the gap widened enough to let them through.
Ciro stood and watched his hired goons do all the sweat work. “Book man, give The Ciro the parchment,” Ciro held out his hand without looking at Jacob.
“I don’t think that is wise, the wall may shut if we pull out the parchment.” Jacob was terrified Ciro would find the other parchment. “I’ll pull it out when we are leaving and give it to you then. That way it’s locked against anyone else who might find the place.”
“The Ciro will wait.” Ciro circled the other men and looked at the piles of jewel encrusted cups and ornaments, jewellery and ornamental boxes. He nodded and made sure every last coin and ring went into the bags to be loaded on the barrows in the outer chamber. One man had slid a ring on his own finger. Ciro stared at the ring on the offending finger.
“The Ciro paid you; you do not take The Ciro’s spoils.” The man tried to take the ring off his finger, fumbled and then screamed as Ciro sliced his finger from the hand in a swift and violent swing. He then threw it, ring and all, into the bag.
Jacob found a piece of cloth and bound the man’s hand, helping to staunch the flow of blood. The bigger man shook off Jacob’s attentions and went back to filling bags, pale, quiet and one handed.
Ciro signalled it was time to leave and all filed out through the gap. Jacob was the last one in the room. He pulled the parchments from the slot and the wall began to move. As fast as his fumbling hands could do it, he unrolled the two and slid the second scroll into the leg of his trousers. He squeezed through the narrowing gap, holding out the other for Ciro to take. Ciro stood with it in hand and watched as the walls began to squeeze Jacob in its solid embrace.
“The Ciro don’t need you any more, book man. The Ciro can leave you here and who would care? Tell me why The Ciro should put this in the slot and help you, little book man?”
Jacob’s foremost thought was horror that the little statue inside his shirt would be crushed. “Ciro…leave me in…wall,” he wheezed. “Other people…wedge it open…take what’s left behind. You…don’t want—have your stuff?” The pressure on his chest increased and he whimpered.
Ciro watched for another few seconds, which felt like hours to Jacob. Black spots appeared in his sight as Ciro inserted the parchment and the wall released its grip. Jacob fell to the floor gasping and Ciro removed the parchment again, letting the wall slide closed. He threw the parchment on Jacob.
“Lead The Ciro out again, book man.” The other men were waiting with laden barrows and dimming lights.
Jacob staggered to his feet and consulted the parchment to remind himself of the way out through the labyrinth of pathways. It took longer to get back with the extra burdens and the diminishing strength of the torches, but they eventually burst out into the fresh air and coolness of the night. Jacob looked up at the stars and sucked in a lungful of air to shift the staleness of the temple from his chest.
“We sleep now!” Ciro bellowed at the assembled men and landed a heavy hand on Jacob’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. “Book man, you read the directions and get The Ciro and his treasures out of here tomorrow.”
Jacob nodded and moved away from Ciro to the darkness nearer the trees. He made sure no one was near him and slid the statue and parchment from his clothing. He stroked his hands over the small feminine shape in a caress of awe at the age and beauty of the artefact and regret at having been the cause of its current predicament.
“I am so sorry, little Goddess. I will have to hide you and come back some day to put things to right. Please forgive me.” He kissed the statue and rolled it in both parchments, sliding the whole into a large plastic zip lock bag. He then took himself a short way into the jungle and buried it. He used his small belt torch to look at his compass and work out the exact coordinates of the burial spot, marking it in the back of his diary. Then he covered the place with leaf and plant mulch to hide the fresh dig.
They made a relatively speedy descent down the mountain over the next week, having already slashed a trail on the way up. During the journey, Jacob made careful note in his diary of where he buried his body wastes, so he could recover the smaller items and the ring at a later date.
When they reached the lowlands, they made for a large clearing where a plane was to meet them in a few days. Ciro began an inventory of his takings, making Jacob write everything down and organise the whole into types of items and repackage it in padded crates in the clearing.
“Give The Ciro the old paper.” Ciro put out his hand for the parchment. Jacob patted his pockets and looked around as if he had just dropped it. Ciro frowned. “Now, book man, The Ciro is not a patient man.”
“No I, I think we already packed it with the other smaller things in that crate over there.” Jacob pretended to consult his lists and pointed at a crate at the far side of the pile. “It was one of the first things packed, I’m sure of it, since we didn’t need it anymore.” Jacob double checked his list and turned it toward Ciro. He pointed to an entry on the sheet to draw Ciro’s attention to it. “See there it is.”
Ciro glanced at the list, looked hard into Jacob’s face, gave the briefest nod and stalked away. Sweat trickled down Jacob’s back, but not from the humidity. An ancient cargo plane finally arrived; the men packed all the crates into the back and strapped them in. Jacob had climbed in to double check everything against his lists so he didn’t see when the pilot and Ciro started firing on the men. He only heard yelling and screaming, then rapid fire shots rang out and silence descended on the surrounding jungle.
Jacob shook in terror as he crouched down behind the crates and tried to stay silent. Ciro and the pilot climbed back into the plane, laughing and talking rapidly in a language Jacob didn’t know. Ciro pulled off his blood spattered shirt and slapped his chest. He and the pilot strapped themselves into the cockpit and the plane took off. Several hours into the flight a call came through and Ciro answered. The conversation was clipped and angry in the guttural language Ciro used with the pilot. Ciro unstrapped and came back to the storage area.
“Book man, where ar
e your lists? The Ciro needs them now.” Jacob crawled out from behind the crates and fumbled for the lists in his large jacket pocket. “The Ciro needs to know, did we have a woman statue, small and made of silver and a ring with a red stone. We needed two parchments. You find them for The Ciro.”
Jacob ran a shaking finger down the lists, but he knew they would not be there. He knew exactly what items Ciro and whoever was on the phone wanted, but they were where he had buried them. He ran his finger down the list again.
“We have one parchment, more than a dozen rings and several small statues. Is there anything more specific than that? I can’t tell unless we unpack.”
Ciro yabbered something into the phone, then waited a few minutes listening intently. It was hard to hear anything at all in the noisy cargo area and Ciro moved back to the cockpit. He returned and grabbed Jacob by the lapel of his coat.
“You will find the statue and the ring. The ring has marks like the ones on the parchment. There should be two parchments. The statue is a woman and is silver. You made the lists, you find the things. Now,” Ciro’s angry spittle sprayed Jacob’s face. The back of his free hand left its imprint on Jacob’s face, and then he dropped the younger man on the floor. Sinking one heavy boot into Jacob’s thigh, Ciro continued to yell.
Jacob dragged himself toward the crates. He tried to open the first crate, but fumbled the adjuster buckle on the heavy canvas strapping.
Ciro pulled him back by the hair and shoved him out of the way of the crate, “Which one, idiot? Which crate has the rings?”
Jacob pulled out the lists and tried to think. Ciro snatched them from him and kicked him again. Jacob curled up and put his hands over his head, listening as Ciro opened random crates and threw items out of them.
He shoved the carefully packed items around. Finally, he pulled out a container with rings. “Where is the parchment? Where the hell is the parchment?” Ciro kicked and punched Jacob to punctuate each word. Jacob screamed as something snapped in his leg. Ciro hauled him up by the neck of his clothing and pulled Jacob’s face close. “Where. Are. The. Parchments?” he screamed.
Rise of the Goddess (****All proceeds from the Rise of the Goddess anthology will go to benefit the Elliott Public Library**** Book 1) Page 23
