Matthew Reilly - Temple

They could save your life.’

Refreshed by my slumber, I wandered up onto the roof of the citadel once again.

There I found Renco, nobly keeping his vigil. He must have been supremely fatigued, but he did not betray any such weariness. He just stared vigilantly out over the main street of the town, oblivious to the veil of rain that landed lightly on the crown of his head. I arrived at his side wordlessly and followed his gaze out over the village.

Aside from the rain, nothing moved.

Nay, nothing made a sound.

The eerie stillness of the village was haunting.

When he spoke, Renco didn’t turn to face me. ‘Vilcafor says he opened the temple in daylight. Then he sent five of his finest warriors into it to find Solon’s treasure. They never returned. It was only with the onset of night that the rapas emerged from within the temple.’

‘Are they out there now?’ I inquired fearfully.

‘I they are, then I have been unable to see them.’

I looked at Renco. His eyes were red and he had large bags beneath both of them.

‘My friend,’ I said gently, ‘you must sleep. You have to retain your strength, especially if my countrymen find this town. Sleep now, I shall keep the vigil, and I shall wake you if I see anything.’

Renco nodded slowly. ‘As usual, you are right, Alberto. Thank you.’

And with that he went inside and I found myself standing alone on the roof of the citadel, alone in the night.

Nothing stirred in the village below me.

It happened about an hour into my watch.

I had been watching the tiny wavelets of the river, glistening silver in the moonlight, when suddenly a small raft floated into view. I spied three figures standing on the deck of the small vessel, dark shadows in the night.

My blood ran cold.

Hernando’s men…

I was about to run to get Renco when the raft pulled alongside the village’s small wooden jetty and its passengers stepped up onto the wharf and I garnered a better look at them.

My shoulders sank with relief.

They were not conquistadors.

They were Incans.

A man—dressed in the traditional attire of an Incan warrior—and a woman with a small child, all of them covered against the rain by hoods and cloaks.

The three figures walked slowly up the main street, staring in awe at the carnage that littered the muddy road around them.

And then I saw it.

At first I thought it was just the shadow of a swaying branch cast onto the side of one of the huts that lined the street. But then the branch’s shadow swayed away from the hut’s wall and another shadow remained in its place.

I saw the dark outline of a large cat—saw the black feline head, the upturn of the nose, the tips of its high-pointed ears. Saw its mouth open in silent anticipation of the kill.

At first I couldn’t believe its size. Whatever this animal was, it was enormous—

And then suddenly the animal was gone and all I saw was the hut’s wall, bare and empty, illuminated by the moon’s rays.

The three Incans were now about twenty paces from the citadel.

I whispered loudly to them in Quechuan. “Over here!

Come quickly! Come quickly!’

At first they didn’t seem to understand what I was saying.

And then the first animal stepped slowly out into the main street behind them.

‘Run!” I called. ‘They’re behind you!’

The man of the group turned and saw the giant cat standing in the mud behind them.

The animal moved slowly, with precision and calculation.

It looked like a panther. A massive black panther. Cold yellow eyes looked down a tapered black snout—-eyes that stared with the unblinking coolness of the cat.

At that moment, a second animal joined the first and the two rapas stared intently at the small group before them.

Then they both lowered their heads and tensed their bodies like two tightly wound springs waiting to burst into action.

‘Run!’ I cried. “Run!”

The man and the woman broke into a run and hastened toward the citadel.

The two cats in the street leapt after them in pursuit.

I ran to the open doorway that led from the roof of the citadel down into the main body of the structure. ‘Renco!

Someone! Anyone! Open the main door! There are people out there!’

I hastened back to the edge of the roof and arrived there just in time to see the woman reach the base of the citadel carrying the child in her arms. The man arrived right behind her.

The cats bounded down the street.

No-one downstairs had opened the door.

The woman looked up at me with frightened eyes—and for the shortest of moments I found myself entranced by her beauty. She was the most striking woman I had ever—

I made my decision.

I ripped my cloak from my body and, holding onto one end of it, hurled the other end out over the edge of the roof.

“Grab my cloak!’ I called. ‘I will pull you up!’

The man snatched the other end of my garment and handed it to the woman.

‘Go!’ he cried. ‘Go!’

The woman took hold of my cloak and I pulled on it with all my strength, hauling her—and the child in her arms—up toward the roof of the citadel.

No sooner was she off the ground than I saw the warrior beneath her get pummelled by one of the rapas. The man’s body made a sickening sound as it was thrown against the outer wall of the citadel. He screamed as the rapa began to eat him alive.

With all my strength I heaved on my cloak, lifting the woman and the child to safety.

They reached the rim of the roof, and in the light falling rain the woman grabbed hold of the stone battlements, while at the same time she attempted to hand her child over to me.

He was a small boy; with large, frightened brown eyes.

I struggled to hold onto three things at once the woman, the boy, my cloak and I looked out in horror to see that several other rapas had slunk out into the main street of Vilcafor to view the commotion.

Just then, one of the cats beneath us leapt up from the mud and tried to snap its jaws around the woman’s dangling feet. But the woman was too alert. She lifted her toes at the very last moment and the cat’s jaws closed on nothing but air.

‘Help me,’ she pleaded, her eyes frantic.

‘I will,’ said I, as the rain beat down on my face.

Whence the cat in the mud beneath her leapt again, this time reaching out for her with its huge scythe-like claws, and this time it caught the hem of her cloak and to my absolute horror I saw the entire cloak go taut under its weight.

‘No!” the woman cried as she felt the weight of the cat begin to pull her down.

‘Oh, Lord,’ I breathed.

At which moment the cat yanked down hard on the woman’s cloak and she tightened her grip on my wet hand, but it was no use, the great cat was too heavy, too strong.

With a final scream, the woman slipped out of my grasp and, with her child in her arms, she fell off the rim of the roof and out of my sight.

It was then that I did the unthinkable.

I leapt out over the rim after her.

To this day, I don’t know why I did it.

Maybe it was the way she had held onto her son that made me do it.

Or maybe it was the look of pure fear on her beautiful face.

Or maybe it was just her beautiful face.

I don’t know.

I landed rather unheroically in a pool of mud that lay in front of the citadel. As I did so, a spray of brown wetness splattered all over my face, blinding me.

I wiped the mud away from my eyes.

And immediately saw no less than seven rapas standing in a close semicircle around me, staring at me with their cold yellow eyes.

My heart was pounding loudly inside my head. What I intended to do now, I surely did not know.