David Golemon: Legend

The archbishop slid his large chair back and stood without much difficulty. For a man that was used to grandeur in all things, he seemed well suited to a working man's clothes.

"You don't strike me as a fanatical treasure hunter." He crossed from behind his desk to the front, where he carefully picked up the two-page Vatican letter. "I was sure the area of zoology tended toward the acquisition of knowledge on a more… nonavaricious level."

"I assure you I'm not a treasure hunter. My field is the study of animal life, not hunting down the Padilla legend."

The archbishop regarded the letter once again and then held it out to Zachary. The mere mention of the lost expedition of Captain Padilla, a story handed down by word of mouth from Spaniard to Spaniard and which was fraught with tales of gold and mystery, the legendary El Dorado, was almost enough for him to stop talking immediately.

"You are to be congratulated at the very least for your persistence in digging up such a rare find as a Vatican document as important as this."

Helen took the age-yellowed pages from his hand.

"These were," she hesitated a moment, "lent to me by a friend in the States who collects very old things."

"Indeed," he said. "I would be interested to know how many more secret documents this friend has that belong to the Church. Maybe Interpol would be curious as well."

Helen wanted to steer away from her source of the letter; she didn't need that headache. And the mere thought of Interpol's tracking down her source was almost laughable.

"So you agree it is an authentic order?" she asked.

"Even if it were I would never divulge any information about the Padilla diary or the map, my dear professor. Even if said knowledge was in my possession, I would never allow — I mean, the Church would never allow such recklessness to once again stain its history, and surely not for treasure seekers such as you or whoever is backing you." He turned his back on her. "If I were to guess, you have a partner in this endeavor, yes?"

Helen looked at her feet a moment and then closed her eyes. She held the thin and precious pages gently in both hands.

"I do have a silent partner that will back me for my reasons for going, and that reason is not for gold or glory, but for a far greater find."

The archbishop turned and stared hard at the thirty-six-year-old woman. She was tanned and striking, her green eyes ablaze with passion.

"Perhaps it is time you tell me the reason you want to see the diary." He held up a finger when Helen's smile returned. "This is not an admission that I have the cursed thing, or that it is even in the possession of the Holy Church."

"Believe me, Your Eminence, I would never have had to bother you if the quest for the Padilla map had been successful, but I'm afraid it's truly lost."

He frowned. "You are positive?"

"Yes," she said sadly as she moved toward a far corner of the small office, "I'm afraid it's gone forever."

"A shame, indeed, but as you know, the legend says that Padilla had managed to secure samples from the richest gold mine in history; are they lost also?"

"I have no interest in that part of the legend. Only the fact that Father Escobar Corinth had the map and samples placed into two separate containers of which no description has ever been discovered."

"For good reason perhaps, for even your Vatican letter says that to open these containers would bring a curse upon anyone who defied the Vatican locks."

Helen reached the far corner of the room and carefully picked up an aluminum container. She hefted it and placed it on the desk, narrowly avoiding the laptop there.

"I didn't think the Catholic Church gave credence to such ridiculous superstition."

"It is just a story that is told. We don't believe in curses, officially anyway. Even Satan has taken a backseat, a mere lowercase evil in today's teachings."

"So, is it a tale that is remembered through mere legend, or one that you read in a diary by a long-dead conquistador of Spain?" she asked while matching his smile with her own.

He wagged a finger at her. "You are fishing again, Professor, but this fish is not so easy to hook."

She turned and unsnapped the four clasps on the aluminum box. An audible pop was heard as the airtight container became unsealed.

" You are indeed a difficult fish to hook, Your Grace," she said, nodding at the aluminum carrying case, "possibly as hard as this fish would be to catch." She opened the box and stepped away so the archbishop could see its contents.

He immediately froze and found taking a breath had become a chore. He couldn't get enough air into his lungs for that simple reflexive action. His eyes widened and he quickly crossed himself. Around him the noises from the ongoing foundation renovation continued, but it went unheard by the archbishop.

"Our Lord Jesus Christ," he mumbled as old church doctrine came flooding back to him.

Helen Zachary didn't smile or speak. Having had to show the contents of the container was a last-ditch effort to get the archbishop's assistance. Not only that, but much more important, his trust . After all, she was only asking him to disobey a papal command in order to help her.

"As I said, the treasures I seek have nothing to do with gold or the riches of man. It's knowledge I seek. I need your help. The rumor of strange and exotic animal life described in the diary may be connected to this object."

"This…this, fossil, how old is it?"

Helen looked at the skeletal remains of the hand. They had been carefully packed in a soft foam cutout. The four fingers were long, at least seventeen inches from palm to tip. The thumb was half that length, and the bone was thick and very powerful looking. Three of the digits had very lethal-looking clawed tips. The other claws were obviously absent due to its extreme age. Patches of petrified flesh were visible.

"I'm afraid it barely qualifies as a fossil, Your Grace, we have estimated its age at only seven hundred years, give or take a decade, placing it in the time frame of the Padilla expedition."

"Is this possible?" he asked. "No, no, this cannot be."

Helen slowly and carefully placed the lid back on the aluminum container and snapped the clasps closed. Then she pressed a small button on the container's lid once, twice, three times, expelling the air that had entered the protective box and thus any contaminant that may have been allowed in. When she was finished she placed the container back onto the floor and turned back to the archbishop.

"The legend of the Padilla expedition and the rumors surrounding its demise may have been no mere legend, or just a story to scare school-children at night. This is the treasure we are seeking. Can you imagine what we may discover at that site if we can find the route? If you have read the diary, is such a strange and wonderful creature as this described by Padilla?"

Archbishop Santiago slowly made his way to his chair. His emotions were in a vortex, for he had always prided himself as being a progressive entity in his church. Never one to shy away from real facts of science, he was one of the few that knew the real truth of this world can only strengthen one's faith in there being a God and his son Jesus Christ. But this was something he had never counted on, possible proof that man had sprung from something other than God's image. He removed his glasses and tossed them onto his desk. The words he had read many times over the years that sent chills down his spine — were they words that painted a picture of actual creatures and not just the ravings of overzealous imaginations? The legend of Padilla was told by millions of people the world over, and each telling told of the wondrous sights and all described the horrible beast that guarded a magical valley.