David Golemon: Legend

The Devil can have his home , Padilla thought, and he prayed that no other man would ever find this place, for humans were not meant to be here. He would give the map he had made of the valley to Father Corinth and warn him that this was truly the playground of demons.

With the night sentries on the point, Padilla ordered his soldiers forward. But just as they nervously took their first step, the night exploded around them. This time, the murderous animal came at them not from the water, but from the bush. It must have followed the tracks of the soldier who had escaped it. The darkness around the screaming men was rent with the powerful and enraged cry of the beast at it attacked. Padilla felt the warmth of something striking his face and then the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.

"Captain, into the water while there is time. Fall back, men, into the water and swim for it!" Torrez shouted as he pushed the shocked Padilla into the cool lagoon. "We can gain the trail on the other side."

Padilla was still trying to peer into the blackness as he was pulled away by Torrez. That was when the beast stepped closer to one of the open fire pits and swiped its strangely formed hand at one of the men. The soldier was silent as the claws raked down his face and tore through his chest armor. As the Spaniards watched in horror, the animal was struck from behind with a sword, and then a shot rang out from a pistol. The beast did not slow down, even though Padilla saw the ball strike the animal in the upper chest, slinging scales and red meat into the air. The monster screamed a cry of outrage and quickly reached out to grab and disable the hand that wielded the sword. The animal easily lofted the man over its head and then threw him bodily against one of the large trees as if he weighed no more than a piece of firewood.

Another Spaniard made a break for the trail they had used to enter the valley, and that was when Padilla saw the real speed of the creature. It easily headed off the soldier and attacked from the front, throwing its massive weight against the man and driving him to the ground.

"Look at the size of this devil," Padilla mumbled while Torrez pushed him into deeper water. "It is a man!"

Padilla snapped out of his shock as the cool water closed over his head. He reached for the buckled straps that held his armor in place, and quickly shrugged out of it. The heavy iron was sent to the bottom as Padilla pushed his way to the surface. As his head broke free of the water, he saw Torrez ahead of him swimming for all he was worth for the far side of the lagoon. He started after his lieutenant while the screaming of his remaining men continued on shore.

Padilla began to lose the strength in his arms after ten minutes of swimming blindly across the lagoon. His ears were now filled with his own struggles and the roar of water ahead of him emanating from the waterfall. His arms were flailing and his knee-high boots had filled with water. He was finding it very difficult to keep the momentum needed to propel him forward. As his head dipped below the surface in his fatigue, he started to swallow more and more of the strangely cool and sweet water. He felt himself go under. He thought he heard shouts as he began to give up his struggle and let the pleasant water embrace him.

It was comforting because now he wouldn't have to face Pizarro or any of his men that survived, and he could accompany those that hadn't on their final journey toward forgiveness for what they had wrought on the innocent Sincaro. Captain Padilla even managed a smile as his lungs took in his last breath of not air but water. Suddenly he felt hands grabbing at him from above. Even his beard was pulled on as he was lifted up out of the water. His eyes rolled as he tried to catch one single blessed breath but found his lungs were full.

"Captain, Captain," Torrez shouted.

Padilla felt ground beneath him as he was forcibly rolled over, his back hit as if it were an anvil. He felt his spine pop as he was pushed on heavily. Torrez had dragged him to shore and was trying desperately to expel the water from his lungs.

"Breathe, my captain, don't you leave me here in this black place!" Padilla vomited the now-warm water from his stomach and lungs, and the pain hit him in earnest when he tried to replace the liquid with precious air. He felt his body spasm as his lungs slowly brought in the needed oxygen. A loud moan escaped his shivering lips, then he slowly brought in another breath.

Padilla rolled over and tried to sit up but failed miserably. Other hands quickly grabbed for him and he was lifted to his feet. He looked over and saw that the two soldiers were Juan Navarro, a cook's assistant, and Javier Ramon, a blacksmith. They were only feet from the waterfall. Padilla looked up and saw where the water cascaded from somewhere high above. He coughed, trying to clear his throat of the remaining water he had ingested. Torrez stood on the edge of the small shore, staring out across the lagoon.

"The screaming of our men has stopped," he said without turning as Padilla approached. Together, they gazed at the dwindling fires of their destroyed camp flickering in the darkness across the lagoon.

After a moment, Torrez took his captain by his shoulders and turned him away from the distant scene of destruction. As they walked toward the wall of rock that ascended straight up from the lagoon and bordered the waterfall, Torrez knew they were being watched.

"Look," he softly spoke, not wanting to attract the attention of the other men.

Padilla studied the spot Torrez had indicated. Another statue, here carved into the wall, stared down upon them. It resembled the same beast that had just attacked them, and resembled the two images that guarded the tributary. It had been hidden from their vantage point across the lagoon. This one was larger and it stood alone. How had they missed seeing it during the daylight hours? Padilla didn't know.

They both turned as they heard a loud splash in the water. The noise had come from their destroyed campsite. Both men could see the ripples and the large wake that was streaking toward their side of the lagoon.

"Captain, Lieutenant, there is a cave rising above the waterline under the falls," Navarro said as he approached. "You won't believe it — there are stairs."

Torrez turned to face the sheer cliff in front of them, which held only the carved figure of the animal that was now their god of judgment. Then he looked down the shoreline at the distant jungle. Surely whatever this creature was that was coming after them, it would surface long before they could reach the trees. He looked around frantically and then pushed Navarro forward.

"Take us to this cave, soldier," he shouted, as he pulled Padilla after him.

The three men joined Ramon the blacksmith, who was waving for them to hurry. He had caught sight of the underwater demon as it sped to their side of the lagoon. As they came upon the waterfall the roar drowned out all talk. In vain, Torrez studied the point where the water struck the lagoon. Then he saw it. The cave was just a darker outline against the cliff face, but it was there. It rose about ten feet above the water and then disappeared into the depths. He saw no other choice. He dove headfirst into the water; the others, including Padilla, followed. They had to dive deeply to avoid the crushing rush of the falls, the vortex of which pushed them even farther into the depths as they fought to reach and enter the dark and foreboding cave. As they disappeared from sight, the creature changed its underwater course and swam toward the whitewater of the falls.

Two months later, a lone survivor was saved from the river. At first, the Spaniards who had discovered him thought him to be an Indian, but soon realized the man had been part of Captain Padilla's expedition. The men had struggled to carry the survivor back into Peru but knew they would never make it. Word was sent to Father Corinth; knowing this, the survivor had miraculously clung to life. The man was dying from exposure and a strange sickness the men in camp had never before encountered. His only possession was a book they had mistakenly taken for a Bible, which the survivor held tightly to his injured chest. Every time they tried to relieve him of the book the man would arise like a tiger to protect it. They even tried to pry his fingers from it when he had passed out, but that had proven just as futile.