David Golemon - Event

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 his captain 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 armor was sent to the bottom as Padilla pushed his way to the surface. As his head broke free of the surface, 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 was starting to lose the strength in his arms after ten minutes of swimming blindly across the lagoon. His ears were 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, and he was finding it very difficult to maintain the momentum needed to keep his head above water. He was starting to swallow more and more of the strangely cool and sweet water. He felt himself go under and was aware of water flowing down his throat. He thought he heard shouts as he began to give up his struggle and let the cool water embrace him.

It was comforting because now he wouldn't have to face any of his men who had survived and he could accompany those who 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 himself rolled over and his back struck as if it were an anvil. He felt his spine pop as he was pushed on heavily by Torrez trying desperately to expel the water from his lungs.

"Breathe, my Captain, don't you leave me here in this black place!"

Padilla felt the warm water vomit from his stomach and lungs, and the pain hit him in earnest when he tried to replace the water with precious air. He felt his body spasm as his lungs slowly brought in the needed oxygen. A loud moan escaped his shivering lips, and 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. The captain saw they were only feet from the waterfall. He looked up and saw where the water cascaded from somewhere high above. He coughed, trying to clear his throat of the remaining water in his throat. He saw Torrez standing at the small shore, staring out across the lagoon.

"The screaming of our men has stopped," he said without turning as Padilla approached and watched the distant, dwindling fires of their destroyed camp across the lagoon.

After a moment, Torrez took Padilla 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 looked up at the spot Torrez had indicated. Another of the statues carved into the wall looked down upon them. It resembled the same beast that had just attacked them, and the same as 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 watched and saw the ripples and 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 and looked at 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 would surface long before they could reach the trees. He frantically looked around, and then pushed Navarro forward.

"Take us to this cave, soldier," he shouted as he started pulling 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 this side of the lagoon. As they came upon the waterfall, the roar drowned out all talk. Torrez looked up and then down at the point where the water struck the lagoon. Then he saw it. It was just a darker outline against the cliff face, but it was there. The cave 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 deep to avoid the crushing water of the falls, the vortex of which pushed them even further into the depths as they fought to swim into the dark and forbidding cave. As they disappeared, the creature changed its underwater course and swam toward the white water of the falls.

Two months later, a lone survivor was saved from the river. At first the Spaniards who 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 and the survivor, knowing this, had miraculously clung to life. The man was dying from exposure and a strange sickness the men in camp didn't recognize but could only guess at. His only possession was a book the men had mistakenly taken for a Bible that the survivor held tightly to his injured chest. Every time they tried to relieve him of the book, the man would rise 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.

When Father Corinth arrived at the small outpost with a rank of Pizarro's personal guard, the man was waiting for him, only he waited on his deathbed. For hours the lone survivor of the expedition spoke softly with Corinth. The priest had listened, never interrupting the soldier while he examined his wounds and nursed him through the strange sickness. As he spoke, gasping in inner pain and getting weaker for each word he managed to hiss out through clenched teeth, he reached into his tunic and withdrew two small objects. One was a large golden nugget. The other was a strange green mineral, a strange chalk-like substance imbedded in stone. It was strangely warm to the touch. The soldier pulled Corinth close to him, close enough that the priest could feel his high temperature rising from his face. A dire warning was told, barely audible and with fetid breath. Corinth removed his large cross from around his neck and removed the bottom portion. The inside of the cross was hollow and he easily slid the small mineral samples into it. The cross was made of a soft metal covered with gold, not only for beauty but to give the cheap metal more strength. It was of a sort the church frowned upon as being arrogant, but it had been a ceremonial gift from his dead mother given to him on the day he took his vows. It was very beautifully engraved and far too large, and she had spent every ounce of her meager savings to present him with it. He put the end back on the cross and placed it around his neck.