Indiana Jones and the Interior World

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Indiana Jones and the Interior World Page 7

by Rob MacGregor


  "Nice to know. What's a Pincoyan? I never heard of them. Where are they from?"

  "Pincoyans are from Pincoya. It is a region of islands. You will see it soon."

  "I suppose you're one of these Pincoyans."

  "My father is."

  And your mothers a dolphin, he thought.

  "And my mother," she began, as if reading his mind, "is from Wayua, a great desert."

  Indy stared into the fog. He thought he was well traveled and well versed in geography, but he'd never heard of any of these places. Furthermore, he didn't want to see them, at least not against his will. "I'm ready to go back now. I think I've had enough fun for one day. Unless you can drop me off at Easter Island. That would save me some time."

  She laughed. "Unfortunately, Jones, your work on Easter Island is going to have to wait. We need you."

  "Need me? You've lost me. And, by the way, how do you know my name and about my work?"

  She smiled. "If you would stop interrupting me, I might tell you."

  In spite of himself, Indy couldn't help but return the smile. He didn't know anything about her, or about much of anything that had happened in the last few days, but he liked Salandra. It wasn't just that she was attractive, but there was something in her straightforward manner that suggested to him that she was trustworthy. But then again, deceit and treachery came in many forms, and he'd been fooled before.

  "I am what you would call a private investigator," Salandra explained. "That's how I know about you."

  Swell. A woman private investigator on a pirate ship that was disguised as a ghost ship. What else could he expect to hear? "I suppose you're going to tell me you've been hired by the ghost of a pirate who wants me to find his buried treasure."

  The look on her face suggested that she wasn't sure whether Indy was serious or not. "It's much more complicated than that."

  He couldn't help but laugh. "What in the world is going on?"

  "That's well put," Salandra said. "That's exactly what I'm concerned about."

  Indy shook his head. "You're not making any sense to me."

  "I can understand that." She touched his arm. "I'm sorry you were forced onto the ship. But you came most of the way on your own. I knew that you would, from the moment that I found out Hans Beitelheimer had contacted your friend, Marcus Brody. Such a remarkable linkage. It was surely a sign left by the Great Mother herself,"

  "No doubt," Indy said, wondering who the Great Mother was. "How do you know Beitelheimer?"

  "I've been following him."

  "That's right. You're a gumshoe."

  "But I got sidetracked and came upon you. That was nearly a year ago. I followed you from your college to Easter Island, then to Chiloe."

  "I'll have to take your word for it. I haven't seen you around any of those places. Who hired you?"

  No one.

  "Then why were you following me?"

  "Because I had to find out who you were, and how I could get you here."

  "What's the point?"

  "The point, Jones, is that you did something that must be rectified. You are the only person who can undo it. It is not only a matter of life and death. It involves the future of my world, and maybe yours as well."

  My world, your world. Is this what happened to Beitelheimer and Teotoro? Am I losing my mind?

  "I don't know what you are talking about."

  Perspiration beaded on Indy's forehead. An overwhelming sense of dread swept over him, and he just wanted to escape back into sleep. He felt as if he weighed a thousand pounds and was about to puddle on the deck. Yet, he knew that she was prodding at something real, something buried away inside him, something he wanted to forget.

  8

  The Alicorn

  When she was certain that Jones was soundly asleep, Salandra prepared the nalca. She'd given him only a few sips of the drink the first time. Now he must drink more, especially since she knew he wouldn't take it on his own yet. His trust in her was growing, but he was not one who was easily swayed, and the drink remained well beyond the limits of his faith.

  She sat down next to him. "You will drink this now," she said softly, and repeated the command. She lifted his head and held the mug to his lips. As he took a sip, his eyes remained closed. Then he took another, and continued drinking until the mug was empty. She laid his head gently on the pillow, and watched him sleep.

  How could she explain anything about her world to someone who didn't believe that it even existed? She knew there was only so much she could tell Jones. He was a man who established his truths by what he saw, what he experienced, and what made sense to him. Everything had to be verified; that was the key word. When something didn't fit and couldn't be verified, he dismissed it to a corner of his mind where such things piled up for later consideration.

  She had spent enough time in his world to understand Jones's way. He would be slow in accepting the reality of his new surroundings. He would look for other explanations. But in the end, she was confident that he would accept her world as real, every bit as real as his own.

  She would have to be patient until he negotiated the new truth and accepted it. There was no choice in the matter. Jones's help was essential. She'd already discovered, much to her surprise and consternation, that she could do very little without him. Her thoughts turned back to the aftermath of Maleiwa's discovery of the alicorn.

  After Maleiwa had abandoned the Channels of Paradise with his newfound staff, Salandra returned to Pincoya and informed her father about what had happened. He was concerned about Maleiwa, and wanted to know the meaning of the relic. Preventing the Wayua leader from expanding his power was of utmost importance. Salandra's father instructed her to go to Roraima where the great teachers resided, and to seek instruction. She had done so, entering the Tepui of Learning. But none of the teachers would help her. They told her that she was beyond their instruction, that she must act on her own abilities now.

  But that wasn't what Salandra had wanted to hear. She needed specific directions. She needed answers. Didn't they know this was important, that she wasn't a student any longer? Yes, they knew, and that was precisely why she must act on her own.

  Finally, near despair, she climbed to the top of the tepui. There she had retreated to her dreams for counsel. At first, her dreams had been chaotic and confusing. None of them made sense to her. She had nearly given up and returned to Pincoya, when the Great Mother Rhea appeared to her in a waking dream, a dream that was not a dream.

  Nothing like this encounter had ever happened to Salandra. Such visitations were mythical; they happened in stories, never to anyone she knew, only those she knew about, and they were from ancient times. Yet, now she knew the stories were true.

  Mother Rhea appeared in the form of a woman, ageless and radiant in her beauty, and Salandra knew immediately in whose presence she was standing. It was nearly too much to bear, and at the same time she knew that the incredible being before her could only be a fragment of the true nature of the Great Mother. Anything more would be impossible for Salandra to comprehend or tolerate; her very existence would cease.

  "The balance is threatened," Mother Rhea said. "You must get the staff away from Maleiwa, or all is lost. But beware, it is a sacred alicorn, a relic of power, and cannot be taken from him unless he willingly gives it up."

  "But how can I stop him?" Salandra asked. "If it is so important, he'll never give it to me."

  "The alicorn can be reclaimed only by one who has possessed it in the past. That is your answer."

  Salandra was frustrated. She didn't know what to do. Maybe Mother Rhea was simply testing her. Salandra had always used guidance wisely, but never allowed it to limit her. She must find out for herself. After all, that was one of the most important teachings handed down by the Great Mother.

  The image had no sooner vanished when, still in her waking dream, Salandra shifted to the form of a falcon, the bird which was her protector and her wings. She soared high above the tepuis of Roraima, o
ver the forbidding Swampland, and onto the harsh desert of Wayua. She spanned time and distance and flew over the walls of Maleiwa's castle and through an open window. She reshaped into her woman-form, but not into full physical being.

  She found herself in an alcove off of the castle's main hall. She paused by the open door of the hall as she heard sounds of laughter and loud talk coming from within. Servants moved about clearing dishes and bringing new platters of food.

  Maleiwa was seated at the head of a crowded table. He wore a long gold-colored tunic. His bronzed skin, bald head, dark eyes, and strong features made her recall their earlier friendship when they were both students in Roraima. She wanted to walk inside and listen to everything he had to say, but she'd come here on a matter of great importance and her time was limited.

  She turned away from the feast and prowled the corridors of the castle. She must find the alicorn. She needed to see it again and learn everything she could from it. She inspected room after room, with no luck. Then a door opened just as she was about to pass through it. A maid stepped out and locked the door. The woman paused as she turned from the door, tilted her head, and frowned. Then she shrugged and moved on. That one is perceptive, Salandra thought. She had sensed her presence.

  Salandra walked into the room as the maid disappeared down the corridor. She immediately knew that this room was a special place for Maleiwa. It was filled with trophies from the warrior's many adventures. There were weapons of many sorts, and gold and silver artifacts representing beasts that were part human and part animal. Stuffed animals, including a huge desert snake and a fish with a head that looked nearly human, were displayed here and there in the spacious room.

  Then she saw the alicorn. It was mounted on the wall above a massive desk. If the staff was such a powerful relic, why was it so exposed and housed with such worldly mementos? she wondered. She walked over to it and laid her hands on it. Usually in her waking-dream state, she could move physical objects. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remove the alicorn from the wall.

  Then, unexpectedly, she glimpsed Maleiwa as he had stood here placing the relic on the wall. She could hear his thoughts, as if he were speaking. He knew that the staff was a relic of power, but he already had power, he thought. It was nothing to him but a nice memento, a curiosity of the exterior world, even though its origin was no doubt the interior.

  But Maleiwa thought more about this link and the nature of its power. The alicorn was a talisman of protection. With it, he realized he could pass through any of the gates to the exterior world, and no one could stop him. But the alicorn presented another possibility; he could use it as a lure to entice his ally to help him overcome the one big obstacle still preventing him and his army from taking up a long-term presence in the exterior world. He smiled cunningly as the plan took form.

  Salandra heard it all. She had to get the staff away from Maleiwa and destroy it, to prevent his plan from coming true. She shifted to full physical form. Anyone walking into the room would see her now. But she had to take the chance. She pulled on the alicorn, then tugged at it. There was nothing holding it, yet it wouldn't budge.

  Mother Rhea was right. She couldn't take it, and Maleiwa would never give it to her. How would she get it?

  As soon as the question was posed, the answer came through the staff itself. She saw the man from the exterior world who had possessed the alicorn before Maleiwa. He was the one who had left it at the entry to the Channels of Paradise. He wasn't hiding it; he was giving it up, and that was why Maleiwa had been able to take control of it. She sensed who this man was, but she needed to find out more about him, much more, before she could approach him about the onerous task that would be required of him.

  Salandra's thoughts returned to the present. She took one more look at Jones, then headed for the deck. So much depended upon him, and he was so vulnerable.

  Sacho stood outside the door to the cabin as if he were guarding it. He bowed his head in the traditional Pincoyan motion of respect. "Is everything all right, Your Highness?"

  She studied him a moment. "I was told that you killed Hans Beitelheimer and the old man. Is that true?"

  He laughed nervously. "It was nothing. Just an illusion. I wanted Jones to fear me so that he wouldn't try to escape."

  She nodded. "You were convincing." Then she pointed to the whip that was coiled on his hip. "And what is that for?"

  Sacho touched the whip and grinned as he nodded toward the cabin. "I took it from him. They snap it and beat animals with it." He made a motion with his hand. "Sometimes people, too."

  She would ask Jones about it. She couldn't imagine him whipping animals or people.

  "Make sure he is not disturbed until we reach the port. He needs the rest."

  He bowed again. "At your service."

  I hope so, she thought. If she couldn't trust Sacho, she was in deep trouble.

  9

  Into Pincoya

  In the dream, Indy was a kid again, exploring Egypt with his father. They were walking near the Great Pyramid and his father was talking to a man with a flat-topped cylindrical hat with a tassel. Indy wasn't listening to what was being said. Instead, he was playing make-believe. The pyramids, the robes, the language, the music were all strange and exotic to him. He imagined it was another world and he'd traveled here by rocket as Jules Verne had done on his trip to the moon.

  A door slammed. We must be inside the pyramid now, he thought. No, that doesn't make sense. Pyramids don't have doors. He came awake, and listened. Footsteps. Moving closer. Where was he? The ship. The woman.

  "Salandra?"

  He blinked. He glimpsed a form in the dark. Whoever it was had stopped a few feet short of the cot. "Who's there?"

  The figure stepped closer, leaning over Indy. There was just enough light to make out his face. "Father? What are you doing here?"

  No answer.

  It couldn't be his father. He must still be dreaming, but it seemed so real.

  "Hello, son."

  It was his father, but it didn't make any sense. "What are you doing here?" Then Indy saw his whip in his father's hands. "Where did you find it?"

  "Ah, Junior. You've left yourself vulnerable."

  Indy started to sit up, but with the lightning swiftness of a striking rattler his father's hands looped the whip around his neck, pulled it taut, and kept pulling. Indy gagged as the whip cut into his throat. He grabbed his father's hands, but they were made of iron.

  Wake up. Wake up. I'm dreaming. Indy gasped for air, gagging. Dream or not, he had to fight back, even if it was his father. He kicked his legs up, and the blanket covering him fell over his father's head. He broke free and rolled off the cot. He sucked in air, slammed his fist against the covered head, and tore away the blanket. As his father lurched toward him, Indy struck again, and this time his attacker's body went limp.

  "Dad? Are you all right?" He gaped at the face, saw thick eyebrows and narrow, dark eyes. It wasn't his father at all. It was Sacho. But how could he have confused the two men?

  Indy stood, but Sacho kicked his legs out from under him and straddled him like a horse, pinning him to the ground. Indy caught a glint of metal, saw that Sacho gripped a dagger, and suddenly bucked, hurling Sacho off.

  Indy scrambled up, but Sacho was right behind him. "Sacho, no!" Salandra shouted. An instant later, Sacho fell back, arms pinwheeling, a dart protruding from his neck.

  Salandra stood in the open doorway, holding a weapon that looked like a crossbow with no arrows. She nodded to the men who had gathered behind her. They rushed into the cabin and dragged Sacho's body away.

  "He's not dead. Our weapons shoot darts that temporarily stupefy the target."

  "Too bad," Indy muttered. He rubbed his throat, and wondered about the odd, bitter taste in his mouth. "You don't have guns?"

  "No one can bring them from your world to ours. They don't exist here."

  Indy didn't get it, but he didn't press the point. "I thought you said I
wasn't going to have any trouble."

  "I was wrong." She turned away from Indy. "Come out on deck. We're almost in port."

  "Back in Chiloe?" Indy asked hopefully.

  "No, Pincoya."

  As she walked away, the impact of what had just happened to him struck home. Sacho indeed was an illusion shaper. He'd looked like Beitelheimer. Then he'd looked like Indy's father. Indy was in desperate need of an explanation, a sensible explanation of this nonsensical world he'd stumbled into. But right now it was more important to find out exactly where the ship was taking him.

  When Indy reached the deck, the fog had lifted and he could clearly see the ship and the surrounding sea for the first time. "You're going to have to show me this Pincoya on a map. I've never heard of it."

  "I'll do better than that, Jones," Salandra answered. "I'll show you the city right now." They headed toward the bow until they reached a telescope that was mounted on a railing. Salandra peered through it, turned it slightly, and adjusted the focus. "There's Pincoya. Take a look."

  "Okay, but I still want to know..." Indy stopped in midsentence as he stared through the scope. What he saw bewildered him. Even though the sun wasn't visible, it was light enough to see a city with numerous spires and towers in the distance. But it looked all wrong. It was as if the city was built on a hill with the buildings perpendicular to the slope. It gave the impression that he was looking down on the city from above.

  He lifted his head from the scope and stared toward the horizon. He could barely see the city, but it looked as if it were floating above the sea. He saw a speck in the distance near the city and turned the scope slightly. He spotted a ship in the scope, but it appeared to be standing on end.

  "I don't get it. It's some kind of mirage."

  Salandra laughed. "I wanted you to see Pincoya before I tried to explain."

 

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