Matthew Reilly - Temple

‘Where do you think you are going?’ inquired Renco, seeing him stand.

‘I’m leaving,’ said Bassario simply.

‘But I need your help,’ said Renco.

‘Vilcafor says that his men had to remove a great boulder from the temple’s entrance and that it took ten men to do so. I am going to need as many again if I am to roll it back into place. I need your help.’

‘I feel that I have done more than my share in your quest, noble prince,’ said Bassario. ‘Escaping Cuzco, traversing the mountains, charging blindly through the perilous forests. And all the while making a fake idol for you. No, I have done my share, and now I am leaving.’

‘Have you no loyalty to your people?’

‘My people put me in jail, Renco,’ Bassario retorted harshly. ‘Then they punished my family for my crime—banished them to live in the filthiest, roughest quarter of Cuzco. My sister was molested in that slum, my father and mother beaten and robbed. The robbers even broke my father’s fingers, so that he could no longer fashion stone. He was left to beg—to beg for scraps to feed his family. I have no grudge against my own punishment, no grudge at all, but then I also have no loyalty whatsoever to the society that punished my family for a crime that was mine and mine alone.’

‘I am sorry’ said Renco softly. “I did not know of these incidents. But please, Bassario, the idol, the Spirit of the People.’

‘It is your quest, Renco. Not mine. I have done enough for you, more than enough. I think I have earned my freedom. Follow your own destiny and allow me to follow mine.’ And with those sharp words, Bassario shouldered his longbow and climbed down into the quenko and disappeared into the darkness. Renco did not attempt to stop him. He just looked after him, his face awash with sadness. Now it was that the rest of us were all prepared for our confrontation with the rapas. All that remained was one final touch. I picked up the small bladder of monkey urine that the toothless old man had given to me earlier that night and opened its cap. At once, an utterly vile odour assaulted my olfactory pas sages. I winced at the odour and despaired at the prospect of pouring the foulsmelling liquid over my body. But Idid so nonetheless. And oh, how putrid it was! It was no wonder the rapas detested it. Renco chuckled at my discomfiture. Then he took the small bladder from me and began dousing himself in the stinking yellow liquid. The bladder was passed to the other warriors who would be venturing up into the mountains and the too, began bathing themselves in the foul, reeking liquid. As all was approaching readiness, Lena returned with a much larger animal bladder—a llama’s bladder, I guessed— also filled with liquid.

‘The rainwater you requested,’ said she to Renco.

‘Good,’ Renco said, taking the llama’s bladder from her. ‘Then we are ready to go.”

Renco poured a trickle of rainwater from the llama’s bladder over the real idol. It hummed to life instantly, singing its melodious song. The interior of the citadel was empty. Lena had already sent the women, children and old folk of the village down into the quenko to commence their journey into its labyrinthine tunnels, a journey that would ultimately take them to the waterfall at the edge of the tableland. Lena herself had stayed behind in the citadel, ready to shut the door stone after us.

‘All right,’ said Renco, nodding to the pair of Incan warriors manning the door stone. ‘Now.’

At that moment, the two Incan warriors rolled the big stone aside, revealing the dark night outside. The rapas were right there! Waiting for us. Gathered in a wide circle immediately outside the citadel’s stone doorframe. I counted twelve of them—twelve enormous blackcats, each possessed of demonic yellow eyes, high pointed ears and powerful muscular shoulders.

Renco held the singing idol out in front of him and the rapas stared at it, transfixed. Then, abruptly, the idol stopped its singing and equally suddenly, the rapas broke out of their trances and started a low growling. Renco quickly doused the idol with more water from the llama’s bladder and the idol’s song resumed and the rapas lapsed into their hypnosis once again. My heart also started beating again. Then, with the idol in his hands and the seven Incan warriors and myself in tow behind him, Renco stepped through the citadel’s doorway and out into the cold night air. The rain had stopped—at long last—and the clouds had parted somewhat, revealing the starry night sky and a brilliant full moon. With flaming torches held high above our heads, we made our way through the village and onto a narrow path that ran alongside the river. The rapas were all around us, moving with slow, deliberate steps, keeping their bodies low to the ground while at the same time keeping their eyes fixed on the singing idol in Renco’s hands. My fear was extreme. Nay, it must be said that I have never been more terrified in my life. To be surrounded by a pack of such enormous, dangerous creatures, creatures totally devoid of pity or mercy, creatures that killed without the slightest hesitation. They were so big! In the flickering firelight of our torches the muscles on their shoulders and flanks rippled orange. Their breathing was loud too—a kind of deep chested braying sound not unlike that of a horse. As we walked along the riverside path, I looked behind me and saw Lena standing at the edge of the village holding a torch, watching after us. After a few moments, however, she vanished from my view—having decided, I imagined, to go back to the citadel and carry out her duties there. We continued on our journey up to the mysterious temple. Along the path we went. Nine men—Renco, myself and the seven Incan warriors— surrounded by the pack of rapas. We came to the mountainside, to a narrow passageway set into the rock face. One of the Incan warriors told Renco that the temple was to be found at the other end of this passageway. Renco doused the idol once again. It sang loudly, its high pitched tone cutting through the early morning air. Then he entered the passageway, the cats trailing close behind him like children following a schoolteacher. As we walked down the narrow passageway by the light of our flaming torches, one of the Incan warriors foolishly attempted to stab one of the entranced rapas with the point of his spear—but just as he was about to drive his weapon into the beast’s flank, the rapa turned on him and snarled ferociously, stopping him in mid-lunge. The big cat then just turned forward and resumed its enraptured pursuit of the singing idol. The warrior exchanged a glance with one of his companions. The rapas might have been entranced, but they were not totally defenceless. Now it was that we emerged from the narrow passageway into a wide circular canyon of some kind. As the chieftain Vilcafor had said, a most incredible finger of stone shot up out of the middle of it, soaring high into the night sky. A path was cut into the canyon wall to our left—the .escape path Vilcafor had ordered his people to build. It curled around the circumference of the cylindrical canyon, spiralling up and around the finger of stone in its centre. Renco mounted the path, stepping slowly upward, holding the wet idol in his hands. The cats followed him. The Incan warriors and myself walked slowly up the path behind them. Up and up we went. Round and round, following the steady curve of the path. At length we came to a rope bridge that stretched out over the canyon, connecting the outer path to the finger of stone in the middle of the great canyon.

I looked out across the ravine at the stone tower opposite me. On top of the tower, surrounded by some lowcut foliage, I saw a magnificent stepped pyramid not unlike those found in the lands of the Aztecas. A boxshaped tabernacle was mounted atop the imposing triangular pyramid. Renco crossed the bridge first. The cats followed him, one by one, bouncing with supreme surefootedness across the long swooping bridge. The warriors went next. I crossed last of all. Once I had navigated my way across the bridge, I mounted a series of wide stone steps which opened onto a clearing of some sort. At the head of this clearing lay the portal to the temple, the entrance. Wide and dark, square and menacing, it yawned open as if daring all the world to enter. With the wet idol in his hands, Renco approached the portal.