Robbed of Soul: Legends of Treasure Book 1

by Lois D. Brown

  Walking into the recovery unit at the hospital, Maria’s heart pounded furiously. It was how she used to feel before seeing her ghosts. Only this was real. Rod’s life as he knew it before the cave was at stake.

  Please, pled Maria to an unseen force, the same one she pled to in Tehran, please help him be okay.

  Maria turned the corner and was approached by several nurses. They must be the new shift. Maria didn’t recognize any of them.

  What did their faces say? Was it good news or bad?

  “Maria Branson?” asked the oldest of the group.

  “Yes?” Every muscle in Maria’s body was tense.

  “Somebody’s been asking for you.” The woman winked.

  Maria’s stomach jumped from its place well below her lungs into her throat. Practically out of her mouth.

  Rod! He was talking!

  Maria ran down the rest of the hallway and burst into his room. He sat in bed, a bowl of applesauce on the tray at his side. The television was on. A man on the screen rambled about the virtues of the new Chevy Camaro’s super charged 6.2 liter engine.

  “You’re okay!” Maria didn’t remember starting to cry, but she was. Tears dripped off her cheeks. The worry she’d felt over the past days had built inside her like an overfull waterbed, and now it leaked out, tear drop by tear drop. She wanted to hug him but was afraid touching him might hurt something.

  “Yep, I’m okay,” Rod answered, shoving a stick of gum into his mouth. “Give or take a few brain cells.”

  He looked horrific and marvelous at the same time. His eyes were still swollen. His facial hair unkempt. But none of it mattered. It was Rod, with his overbearing presence that took up the whole room.

  Wincing, Rod scooted over in bed, making room for Maria to sit next to him. “I hear you’ve been neglecting your police duties.”

  “From whom?” Maria snuggled next to his good shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his alive and breathing body. The fear that she wouldn’t be able to save him from Sherrie and the cave was a thing of the past. She had gotten him out. And he had saved her from Yaotl in the Three Lakes. They were good for each other. Maybe from here on out they wouldn’t have to keep saving each other’s lives.

  “Pete visited me this morning.” Rod grinned. “He just barely left.” Using his hand from his uninjured arm, Rod gently slid his fingers in between hers. The motion was so un-alarming to Maria that it was alarming.

  Rod was holding her hand!

  Maria’s arm tingled from his touch. “I have so many issues with that. First of all, why did the doctors let Pete in when they wouldn’t let me?”

  Rod gave a one-sided shrug.

  “And second of all,” continued Maria, “What did Pete come for?”

  “To tell me I was the luckiest man he knew, and that I had his blessing.”

  It sounded so eighteenth century. “His blessing for what?” asked Maria, acting as if she had no idea to what he was referring.

  “For this.” Rod leaned in to her and kissed her full on the mouth.

  The angle was awkward, and his unshaven face a bit scratchy, but Maria couldn’t remember another time she’d ever been so happy.

  After the kiss, Maria rested her chin on Rod’s good shoulder and quietly said, “Thank you.”

  Rod turned his face toward her. Confused, he asked, “For what?”

  “For staying alive. I really needed you to not die.”

  Rod attempted a laugh but stifled it quickly, the shaking too jarring on his injured arm. “I had to live. You owe me a picnic.”

  “Absolutely,” responded Maria, keeping her fingers intertwined through Rod’s. “Just as soon as I go grocery shopping.”

  Rod leaned down and rested his forehead on Maria’s. “I’ll take you there myself.”

  “Then you’ve got yourself a date.”

  A blanket of peace settled over Maria as she held Rod’s hand and watched the mindless television show about cars with him. It felt good to be whole.

  One hundred percent, both body and soul.

  # # #

  Skeletons Among Us, book two of the Legends of Treasure series, will be released in 2016. Find a bonus short story Forgotten Canyon, at the end of this book. It’s from Lois’s Treasure Hunters book, a collection of short stories based on American treasure hunting legends and available at most e-bookstores.

  If you enjoyed Robbed of Soul, please take a moment to leave a review on the e-bookstore where you purchased it. Speaking of treasures, a positive review is worth GOLD to an author.

  About Lois D. Brown

  Lois Brown’s love of all things fantastical began at an early age when her five older brothers made her watch television shows such as “Dr. Who” and “Lost in Space.” (Yes, the originals.) Her passion for science fiction continued when, at age 12, she spent an entire summer buying “Star Wars: Return of the Jedi” collector cards. As an adult, she has appeared on television shows such as “Myth Hunters: The Curse of Montezuma’s Gold” and “American Unearthed” discussing Montezuma’s treasure and Freddie Crystal in Kanab, Utah.

  If you’d like updates on Lois’s adventures in writing and treasure hunting, please subscribe to her newsletter on her website.

  Other novels by Lois include:

  Cycles (A top five finalist of The Kindle Book Review’s Best Young Adult Indie Books of 2012)

  Spaces (The sequel to Cycles)

  Catching Katil (a tween mystery set in the 1980s)

  Bonus short story next page!

  Forgotten Canyon

  by Lois D. Brown

  DIGITAL CARTOGRAPHER JONATHON SCRIBNER was accustomed to a generously padded computer chair with a foaming latte in the morning—not a muddy sleeping bag that was, at this very moment, being attacked by the ugliest flying insect he’d ever seen.

  “What kind of bug is this, anyway?” Jonathon directed his question to the rugged, dark haired man named Riley who had just entered the tent carrying a thick metal coffee mug. As usual, the man ignored him.

  Shooing away the mutated horsefly, Jonathon sat up, shivering. He’d worn every piece of clothing he’d brought with him to bed but had still frozen most of the night. Who would have thought the canyons of southern Arizona could get so cold?

  “Sun’s up,” said Riley, Jonathon’s very expensive, very no-nonsense back-country guide. “We need to take down camp and travel during the cooler hours of the day.”

  Riley insisted he had no surname, which was odd, but it made sense because it was hard to think of him belonging to anyone but himself. Rumor had it that for the last decade he had amassed a small fortune accompanying rich CEOs on their mid-life crisis adventures.

  Tenderly, Jonathon slipped one leg from his bag, then the other. His slender frame wasn’t made for this kind of exhausting life. He’d found the old map in the Library of Congress while working for an unnamed government agency; and, at the time, he’d thought it sounded like fun to track down the Aztec treasure himself. That was three months ago.

  Now, after a week of eating pork and beans with fresh squirrel roasted on an open-fire, he was ready to call it quits. He promised himself his next undertaking, whatever that might be, would be done in a climate-controlled room with a chilled glass of green tea at his side.

  “Can you help me get these on,” he moaned, trying to shove his feet into the firm, new leather of his designer hiking boots.

  Riley leaned down, disgust on his face. “I’ll hold while you push.”

  Jonathon did what he was told. His boots slide on.

  “Ouch,” he yelped. “Blisters!”

  To make matters worse, the oversized horsefly from earlier had returned and was pestering him with even more determination. “Honesty, can’t you do something about all of these bugs?”

  Without a word, Riley caught the black buzzing nuisance with his bare hand and gingerly carried it out of the tent.

  It took Jonathon longer than normal to wash his face and armpits using water from his canteen. He t
hen ate his dehydrated breakfast and organized his backpack. He didn’t look forward to the grueling hours ahead. To be honest, he’d expected to find the petroglyphs before now. On the map they were so clearly detailed. A surge of determination filled him. Today would be the day.

  “So,” Jonathon said, adjusting his Crocodile Dundee hat as he exited the tent, “which direction do we go? East or west?”

  Riley grunted. A copy of the 500-year-old map Jonathon found sat on his lap. “We need to go north, deeper into the canyons.”

  “I must say,” began Jonathon, “I’ve looked at the topography a hundred times, and I’m quite sure we’re far enough north. Perhaps we just missed the petroglyphs.”

  They were in the area where the map indicated there should be markings of the Aztec diamond flower, an old symbol consisting of six parallelograms placed next to each other, points together in the middle.

  “We’re not deep enough into the canyon,” said Riley, and he turned his head, letting his traveling companion know that the discussion—if one could call it that—was over.

  “Very well,” Jonathon conceded. “More walking.” He spat out the words as if they tasted like the snake stew Riley had made as a “treat” their first night in the desert.

  “No reason to sit on our laurels,” he added, putting on his best-face-forward look.

  Riley stood, towering over the slight middle-aged man. They both slung their gear over their shoulders and headed out.

  Their boots scattered the dry, red dirt with every step. At times, cactus and other desert shrubs blocked their path, and they had to find a different route. As Riley had explained to Jonathon, he didn’t like disturbing God’s handiwork.

  Around them the air was still, except for an occasional black winged pest. Jonathon didn’t know if they were some kind of fly, bee or wasp, and Riley simply didn’t care.

  “I leave them alone,” he’d said to Jonathon several times, “and they do the same to me.”

  Riley’s arrangement with the bugs, however, wasn’t working for Jonathon who had already been stung three times—once on the neck and twice on the arm. The bites throbbed as bad as when he’d had the varicose veins in his legs stripped last year. Not that he went around telling other men about that. It had been for legitimate medical reasons. Still, he kept it his little secret.

  The canyon walls became steeper, protecting the two men from the brunt of the sun’s relentless rays. Even with shade, however, Jonathon shed the layers of clothing he still wore from his frigid night’s sleep. At last all that remained was his khaki brown pants and yellow cotton shirt.

  “Be sure to keep your eyes open,” Jonathon called to Riley. “If you’re the first to see a petroglyph, it’s an extra five thousand for you.”

  If Jonathon was right about the old map, he’d have plenty of money to spare after claiming the treasure for himself. The map he’d discovered had been salvaged by American archeologists cleaning up after a monastery in Mexico City was destroyed. According to government documents, the map was found inside a locked chest with ancient writing carved into the wooden lid that, when translated, said the box contained the secrets of the high priests.

  Jonathon had recognized the map for what it was: the location of Montezuma’s treasure hidden from the greedy, blood-thirsty Spanish Conquistador Hernan Cortez.

  “Did I ever tell you how Montezuma’s treasure came to be?” Jonathon asked.

  “No,” Riley answered. “I have never asked.”

  Ignoring his tone, Jonathon picked up the pace until he was at the mountaineer’s side.

  “In 1515, Cortez discovered Tenochtitlan, the ancient Aztec capital,” he explained. “His arrival scared the emperor of the Aztecs, Montezuma, who sent Cortez gifts of gold and jewels as a bribe to leave them alone.”

  Riley grunted.

  “Of course, the gifts only spurred Cortez onward in search of more. Eventually, he infiltrated the Aztec government and Montezuma became Cortez’s puppet. He stole everything from the Aztec people. Eventually, the people got sick of it and revolted, killing Montezuma and many of Cortez’s men.”

  Jonathon took a swig from his canteen and continued, “The Spaniards who survived left the treasures they had collected and retreated to their ships, setting sail back to Europe. Several years later they returned with more men to recoup what they had lost; however, by then the enormous amount of gold they had tried to pilfer was nowhere to be found.”

  A buzzing near Jonathon’s ear distracted him, and he swung at it.

  “Stupid pests,” he grumbled.

  “So what happened to the Aztec treasure?” Riley didn’t look at him while he spoke.

  “Convinced the Spaniards would return, Montezuma’s successor Cuitlahuac sent it northward with several of his most trusted high priests and an army of slaves to carry it. After the gold was hidden, the high priests killed the slaves to ensure the location’s secret.”

  Jonathon’s voice echoed on the red rock cliffs, sounding as if the tormented souls of the murdered slaves were telling the story. The thought sent shivers up his arms.

  “Of course, when the priests returned with no slaves, the new emperor exterminated them as well, making him the only one who knew where the riches had been hid.” Sweat dripped down Jonathon’s temples. “Cortez didn’t take kindly to the fact that the gold had been hidden from him, so he tortured Cuitlahuac to death, but the Aztec leader never revealed its location.”

  Jonathon noted to himself that the entire story of Montezuma was quite simple. Yet, the mystery of where the gold was hidden had outsmarted the best treasure hunters of the modern century… until now. With the right map, thought Jonathon, anything is possibly. And luckily, he was the one to have found it.

  And why not? He deserved it. Only he would have been able to successfully compare its topography to that of the gorges and mountains of the Forgotten Canyon where he and Riley had spent the last week together. Even more important, other cartographers not as knowledgeable as he, would not have recognized the symbol of the diamond Aztec flower—made up of six touching diamonds—as the treasure’s resting place.

  The two trudged on in silence for most of the afternoon until dusk. Squirrels were getting sparse, so dinner’s menu consisted of Thistle tea and canned beef. Riley gulped it down like he was eating at a five-star restaurant.

  Jonathon, however, did not.

  “You know,” he said slowly, warming himself by the campfire. “When you advertised your services, you said delicious outdoor dinners were provided every night.”

  “And?” Riley looked up for only a moment from the stick he was whittling into a whistle.

  “I didn’t have Thistle tea in mind.”

  “And?” The wood shavings fell from the sharp knife.

  Jonathon let out a sigh. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Bundling himself up as best he could, he slithered into his bag and closed his eyes, wishing for morning.

  After another week and a half, Jonathon was starving. Pounds were flying off his already tiny frame, and his energy level had plummeted. Riley kept up his superhero pace.

  “Can’t you slow down?” murmured Jonathon. His face was sunburned and covered with insect bites. Scratching brought no relief, and he had taken to smearing red mud on them. At least his fingernails didn’t tear into the skin that way. Riley, of course, didn’t have a single one.

  “If you have no energy, then I suggest you eat more of your dinner tonight,” stated Riley, like he was Jonathon’s mother.

  “If you would make something digestible then perhaps I would.”

  The expedition was on the brink of disaster. The two had wandered around the deepest part of Forgotten Canyon for what seemed like forever. They hadn’t found a single Aztec petroglyph, and certainly nothing that looked like a diamond flower. But knowing he would never have the nerve to come back out, Jonathon kept on moving, entertaining himself with thoughts of drowning Riley in his own grasshopper-leg soup.

  “I don’t ge
t it,” he said at last. “I followed the map exactly. It should be here.”

  “I believe it’s time to return to our homes.” Riley’s demeanor was perfectly calm “What you’re looking for is simply not here.”

  Resentment spread through Jonathon’s body.

  “I must say,” he retorted, “you’ve turned out to be the world’s biggest disappointment of a guide.” Making Riley mad would at least break the boredom, he thought.

  But Riley didn’t get mad. Instead, he shifted the weight of his pack and turned around.

  “You can accompany me back to civilization, Mr. Scribner, or you can stay here. Either way, I’m leaving.”

  Leaving? They couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not with one of the world’s largest hidden treasures calling his name.

  “You’re not serious,” huffed Jonathon.

  Riley set down the food pack containing the Bunsen burner, matches, and lighter fluid. “I’ll refund your money once I’m back in Phoenix. I’d wish you good luck, but I know it won’t do you any good.”

  Riley turned and walked south. In a few minutes he was lost from Jonathon’s view.

  “Good riddance.”

  The first thing Jonathon did was search the food supply: two cans of beef, one of pork and beans, and two strips of jerky. Not much. But that wasn’t a problem. Without Riley underfoot, he was sure he’d find what he was looking for in no time. He hoisted the mess bag and attached it to his already heavy backpack. All of this would soon be just a hazy dream while he sat surrounded by beautiful women in his personal hot tub at his own up-scale California mansion.

  Another one of the bothersome flying terrors jabbed its stinger into his arm. It seemed the nasty creatures were getting larger.

  The food was gone in two days, and Jonathon hadn’t seen one squirrel, snake or grasshopper. Everywhere he looked there were only black buzzing insects coming in and out of gray nests attached to the side of cliffs and tall shrubs.

  Sucking on a chunk of cactus flesh, a trick that Riley had taught him, he wondered what he should do. If only there was some kind of food source in the canyon that could sustain him until the treasure was firmly in his possession.