The Vilcabamba Prophecy: A Nick Randall Novel (18 page)

“It was a trip
lever, come on Charles, we need to get out of here,” Randall said, grabbing the
other man’s arm, yanking him towards the entrance of the tomb.

The ceiling
began collapsing on them as they ran. Dust rained down through the beam of
Randall’s light as he towed Charles behind him. Large chunks of rock fell from
the earthen roof and the whole chamber shook violently. Randall nearly stumbled
over a large stone, releasing Charles’ arm in the process. Catching himself he
spun back, shining his light towards Charles’ face, which was ashen.

Randall grabbed
his arm again and pulled him back towards the entrance. Earth rained down on
them as they pushed forward. The opening to the outside loomed brightly in
front of them, but debris was beginning to build up in the path. Another
vicious jolt rocked the chamber, sending both men careening to the floor.

Randall
struggled to his feet. Having lost his light, he groped for it on the floor.

“Nick! Help
me!”

Randall found
the light and turned to search for Charles as dust choked his lungs.

“Keep talking,
I’ll follow your voice!”

Charles did as
instructed, allowing Randall to locate him, quickly. He shined his light over
Charles body, inspecting for damage. Charles face was contorted in fear and
pain.

“My leg,” he
whimpered.

Randall pointed
the light down his body. Large rocks covered Charles left leg from the thigh
downward. Randall knelt beside him and moved a large stone causing Charles to
moan in pain. He worked quickly, heaving the heavy stones as dust and debris
rained down around him.

The earth shook
again sending a storm of earth showering from above. More rocks broke free.

Randall used
his body to shield Charles from the falling rubble.

“Dad! You’ve
got to get out of there!”

“I can’t,
Charles is trapped!” Randall said, casting a glance at the
ever
dwindling
opening back to his daughter.

Randall continued
to dig at the jagged rocks pinning Charles, his fingers bleeding from the
coarse stone. He could hardly breathe, now; the dust choking him so badly he
could hardly function.
There were too many boulders
,
he couldn’t move them all
.

“Nick,” Charles
gasped.

Randall stopped
digging and turned his flashlight to the injured man’s face.

Charles was
holding his gun, the barrel pointing directly at Randall’s head.

“There’s no way
I’m getting out of here alive,” Charles said.

Randall froze, staring
directly into his eyes.

Charles smiled,
“Sorry, Nick.” He turned the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

Randall
recoiled at the sudden gunshot blast. Opening his eyes, he stared in shock at
Charles’ now lifeless body. The tomb had claimed its second victim in as many
days.

“Dad! Are you
okay? I’m coming in!”

The sound of
Sam’s voice pulled Randall back to reality.

“No, I’m okay!
I’m coming out!”

Randall picked
up the package lying near Charles’ body and cast a final glance at his former
adversary.

“Goodbye Charles.”

Randall
scrambled towards the entrance, trying desperately to keep his balance as the
world around him rocked wildly. The opening was significantly smaller than
before, and dirt continued to pile up on the other fallen debris, causing it to
grow tinier by the second.

He finally
struggled the final few feet and reached the opening. It was too small to walk
out. Randall flung the package through the cavity and into the clearing beyond.
He began climbing up the debris pile on his stomach, digging his fingers into
the dirt and pulling his body up a few inches at a time.

Dirt poured
down on him, getting into his eyes, clothes, mouth and any other exposed body
part. He spit it out and tried wiping his eyes clean with one hand while
climbing with the other in a futile attempt to see. The best he could do was
squint as he dragged his injured body up the dirt hill towards daylight.

He was close
and with one final pull, his torso shot out of the hole and into the sunshine.
Sam,
grabbed his arm, yanking him the rest of the way out of
the earthen grave.

Randall rolled
on the ground, coughing and spitting up dirt as he tried to clear his lungs.
His eyes burned with sweat and dirt, and he was unable to catch a good breath
of air. Sam raced to his side, offering him her water bottle. Randall gulped
the water and immediately began to gag. He spit out a muddy handful of water
and coughed extensively while his lungs burned from a lack of oxygen. Sam
propped him up on a backpack and tried to give him more water. Randall pushed
the liquid aside and continued coughing.

After several
minutes, the coughing subsided, and an exhausted Randall looked up at his
daughter, his face covered with dark dirt except for small, circular bands of clean
skin, outlining his eyes.

“What happened in
there? I heard the gunshot and thought the worst.”

Randall
explained how Charles had unwittingly set off the trap and became pinned under
the debris.

“I tried
getting him free, but the rocks were too heavy and there were too many of
them...”

“…
and
you couldn’t move them all.”

“In the end,
Charles knew there was no way I could free him. He took his own life, so I
wouldn’t stay behind to try and save him.”

Randall sat for
a moment, staring off into space. He glanced back at the tomb and shook his
head. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Several minutes passed as he
gathered his thoughts. He rubbed his temples, trying to find reason in the
violence he had experienced since he had started this journey. There was none.

More time
passed and he finally spoke.

 
“Where’s the package?”

Sam left
Randall’s side and searched for the bundle her father had thrown from the tomb.
After some time, she returned holding a leather bound book. She stared at it
intently, flipping through the first few pages as she walked.

“What is this?”

“I’m not really
sure, but it’s definitely the same writing we found on the tablets at
Paititi
and on the medallion.”

“How are you
able to decipher this?” Sam asked.

“Back when we
weren’t speaking, I didn’t really have much to do in my spare time, so I
concentrated on learning their language. I’m not going to lie, it was really
rough going at first, but with a lot of practice, I came to understand the flow
of the language. Now, reading it is second nature to me.”

Randall sat up
and took the book from Sam. He studied it, intently, flipping from page to
page, as if searching for something.

“Well?” Sam
asked.

“Grab a seat,
this is going to take a while.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Randall found a large, flat
stone, and he decided it was as good a place as any that he would find along
the trail to read. Sam left to scout the area, as he sat down with the book. He
flipped open the cover and began reading with great interest. The book was the
story of the woman who had stolen the medallion. It was also a history lesson
on the tribe that had broken away from the main group living in
Vilcabamba
.

This is the tomb of Luna
Quispe
,
daughter of
Matias
Quispe
,
and this is her story. Let this tale serve as a warning to all who would
disturb the great power of
Ayar
Cachi
and the ancestors. After being forced from the sacred city,
Ayar
Manco
and our ancestors settled along the sacred
river and built the jungle city,
Paititi
, with the
help of men sent by
Ayar
Cachi
.
There, our people flourished as the mother jungle and river provided us with
ample food and water. We lived there peacefully for many generations, and
contact with our brethren in
Vilcabamba
became less
frequent as we were able to live off of the bountiful land without their
assistance. As such, the younger generations began to believe that
Ayar
Cachi
and the great sacred
city were simply stories fabricated by the elders.

One such disbeliever was Luna
Quispe
.
Luna practiced the dark
magic which
was forbidden by
the elders and believed the stories of
Ayar
Cachi
were attempts by the elders to control her power. One
day, she tricked one of the elders,
Huayna
Capac,
into believing she was sorry for her evil ways and
asked to learn about the ancestors. Happy to help the wayward girl back onto
the right path, Capac spent a great deal of time with her, teaching her the old
ways and telling her stories passed down by our people. She learned quickly,
grasping the ancient teachings and becoming an expert on our people’s lore.
Capac was satisfied with the progress of his pupil, but continued to withhold
the one
story which
she sought most.
The story of the
Ayar
Cachi’s
staff.

Finally, after many moons of training and studying,
Luna approached Capac and asked, “Teacher, you have taught me many great
things, and I am forever in your debt.”

Capac replied, “You have been a true and faithful
student Luna. I am happy that you have changed your ways and have decided to
serve your people. The ancestors smile down upon you, now.”

“Thank you master. There is one last thing I would
like to learn; something I have asked about many times.”

“You seek the meaning of
Ayar
Cachi’s
staff. As you have completed the prescribed
training, I will share this secret with you now.”

Capac related the story of the staff and its
ability to control the great power bestowed upon the ancestors by our founders.
He explained how the staff worked. The staff and headpiece are to be placed, as
one, into the great power source to awaken the ancient gods from their slumber,
when the time of the reunification is at hand. Only a descendent of
Ayar
Cachi
can operate the great
power source, once again uniting the people of
Paititi
with their brethren in
Vilcabamba
, returning them to
the land of the ancestors. Capac also told Luna where the staff was kept and
who watched over it in the sacred city. Little did he know the deceit in Luna’s
heart and the great sorrow her actions would bring upon our
people.

Luna devised a plan and, with the help of her
closest followers, she used the knowledge learned from Capac to find the Sacred
Cave and discover the location of
Vilcabamba
. But her
treachery was discovered. The keepers of the staff killed her followers and
confronted Luna. She battled with them and during the struggle, the sacred
staff was broken, and Luna escaped with the headpiece.

Angry
with
the treachery
wrought by the evil one, the keepers of the staff followed Luna, eager to find
the headpiece. Realizing she was a member of the jungle tribe, they attacked
Paititi
, killing many, until Capac was able to explain what
Luna had done. Capac apologized for sharing the sacred secrets with Luna,
explaining that she had fulfilled the necessary training to learn them. The
keepers of the staff returned to
Vilcabamba
to
protect the remaining piece of the shaft and warned our elders to punish Luna.

The elders chose our greatest warriors to seek the
evildoer and exact our revenge. They tracked her for many days, but Luna,
treacherous as ever, eluded them. Finally, one of their scouts, located the
evil she-witch and
Topa
Pachacuti
,
our greatest warrior, led his troops and captured Luna, bringing her back to
Paititi
to pay for her crimes.

The charges brought against her included stealing
and damaging the sacred staff, and causing the death and injury of many of her
tribespeople
at the hands of the staff keepers. It was
decided that her punishment would be entombment at the site where
Topa
Pachacuti
finally captured
her. She was placed, alive, into a stone sarcophagus, bound and gagged with the
medallion around her neck and this book was placed at her feet. The tomb was
sealed and a warning was inscribed on the door, as a reminder for all who would
consider trying to steal the medallion, again. A trap was also set for anyone
who would dare disturb this book; a trap causing
them
to be eternally entombed with Luna for their evilness.

Only the one ordained by our ancestors can return
the headpiece to our brothers in
Vilcabamba
and
restore the staff to its former greatness, allowing for the great unification
to take place. Until that time, we are charged with protecting the headpiece
and keeping it from falling into the hands of our enemies. It is our sworn duty
to protect it, and we are willing to pay with our lives to keep it safe. Woe to
those who would seek to claim the headpiece. Suffering and death surely await
them.

Randall closed
the book, a new sense of dread filling him. Surely the protectors of the
headpiece had learned it was taken and that Luna’s tomb had been disturbed. If
that was the case, then Sam and he were in grave danger. He looked around
nervously, and not seeing Sam, stood quickly and began looking for her.

“Sam, where are
you?”

Panic seized
Randall. He had to find Sam.

He called to
her, repeatedly. No answer.

Randall
backtracked over the path they had covered, but found no trace of Sam. He
sprinted back by the tomb, paused to look for her outside, but not seeing her,
he continued running in the opposite direction along the trail.

He called out
again and again, but got no reply. It was as if the jungle had swallowed her
alive. Defeated, he stopped, out of breath. He bent over, placing his forearms
on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His breathing slowed once more and he
heard a faint noise.

“Dad?”

His heart
raced, “Sam, tell me where you are!”

“I’m to your
left and behind where you were sitting.”

“Where?”

Randall burst
through the tree line and into a small clearing. He spotted Sam sitting on the
stump of a fallen tree. As he approached, he noticed how still she was, almost
as if she was trying not to move. He called to her softly, but she didn’t turn
to look at him.

Randall finally
closed the last few yards and approached his daughter, not breaking eye contact
with her.

“Are you okay?”

“Turn around.”

As he did so,
Randall was confronted with a small army of natives, armed to the teeth with
spears, clubs and
blow guns
. He assumed they were the
protectors of the headpiece. They didn’t look happy.