Gold of the Gods (12 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Beck woke to the sound of thunder. A long
throaty rumble like the roar of waves breaking
on a beach. It was followed by the
drumming of rain on the leaves of
the jungle canopy far above. Soon a curtain
of water was running off the lattice of palm
leaves above his head. He flinched as an icy
droplet exploded on his neck and began to
run down his back. Beck groaned. Walking
through the jungle in the heat and humidity
was one thing. In the rain it would be a
nightmare.

He peered out from under the cover of
the shelter. Steam was rising from the campfire
and the bed of glowing embers was
hissing fiercely in the torrential rain. He
was on his feet in an instant. Fire was
precious in the jungle and the downpour
had caught him off guard. Later in the day,
even with the sparks from the steel, it would
be almost impossible to light a fire because
of the damp.

Just outside the camp was a tree with
bark like the thick, fibrous skin of a
coconut. Slicing through it with the point
of the machete blade, he marked out a
rectangle and roughly pulled it free. The fire
parcel was an old trick the aborigines had
taught him during his time in the
Australian outback. As long as there was a
steady supply of air, the charcoal from an
old fire would smoulder all day. He pulled a
red-hot stick out of the bed of embers and
wrapped it in the thick envelope of bark.

By now the twins were beginning to stir.
'One moment I'm so hot I can hardly
breathe and now I'm freezing again,' said
Marco. 'This is nasty.'

They waited in the shelter of the camp
until the worst of the rain had eased. Beck's
mind was racing. If they could just find the
river, the Lost City would finally be within
striking distance and they would at last have
a chance of rescuing Uncle Al and Mayor
Rafael. From Gonzalo's map he could see
that the river valley rose steeply to a second
plateau high above them in the shadow of
the mountain peaks. Here, he was certain,
lay their goal.

Despite the rain, Beck urged them to get
moving and to press on towards their goal.
A moody silence fell over the twins as
they followed Beck along the line of the
ridge.

They had been moving for less than an
hour when Marco pointed to a nearby tree.
Ragged claw marks had been gouged deep
into its trunk and thick globules of sap
dribbled down the bark.

'Lucky it didn't use one of us as a
scratching post,' said Christina. Her face
was pale, her voice trembling.

Beck frowned. During the night, before
the storm set in, he had heard the roar of
the jaguar many times; it had made the
hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
He had wondered whether the twins had
heard it too. Now it no longer mattered.
The secret was out.

Beck played it cool. 'And lucky too that
jaguars rest up during the day and hunt at
night,' he said. 'So with any luck, our friend
who made these little scratches will be
having a siesta right now.' He paused and
gazed into the depths of the surrounding
jungle. 'Jaguars stick around places where
they can drink. These tracks should lead to
the river.' Beck pointed along the line of the
ridge. Just a couple of metres away,
the route the jaguar had taken was clearly
visible, snaking away into the undergrowth.

As they followed the track deeper into the
jungle, Beck's heart beat faster in his chest.
Although he had decided not to tell the
twins, he knew that the jaguar was a deadly
threat. Bloodthirsty tribes like the Aztecs
and the Maya had once worshipped the
animal like a god. The jaws of a jaguar were
so strong they could crush the shell of a
turtle with one bite. They were also
ferocious hunters. In the shadows of the
rainforest, its trademark spots would be
almost invisible. Until it was too late.
Ambush was a fun game to play with your
school mates and guns that fired paint. But
not with a jaguar.

They had been following the tracks for
about an hour when Beck put his finger to
his lips. The twins stood rooted to the spot,
the whites of their eyes standing out in the
gloom. The cries of the jungle had become
more familiar, and already they could recognize
individual birds from their calls in
amongst Ringo's squawks. But there was a
different sound now. A long deep rumble
like the sound of a double bass in the depths
of an orchestra.

Minutes later, they were standing on the
banks of a wide, fast-flowing river. The rain
had completely stopped and bright shafts
of sunlight broke through the trees.
Christina gasped in astonishment. Huge
butterflies with spotted blue wings were
fluttering over the dappled surface of the
water and a bird with bright yellow feathers
and a long curved beak was drinking at the
river's edge.

But Beck wasn't looking at the river. He
was standing as still as a statue, staring at the
ground. A deep pawprint was clearly visible
in the soft earth. Four circular pads were
set in a semicircle around a larger fifth. 'The
mighty jaguar. The king of the jungle,' he
muttered in awe. 'This must be the exact
place he drank from just last night. But
look, the tracks disappear into the water.'

'Does that mean he crossed here?' asked
Christina, gazing out in disbelief over the
turbulent waters of the river. 'Surely he
would have been swept away.'

'Jaguars aren't just ordinary pussycats,
Chrissy,' said Beck. 'Jaguars
like
water. Dad
told me once that he saw a jaguar swimming
up a river dragging a deer in its mouth.'

'But look, Beck. The tracks reappear
again further up,' said Marco, pointing
along the riverbank.

Beck was silent for a moment, trying to
understand what it meant. Suddenly it
dawned on him. 'When the jaguar was here
last night, the water level was lower. It must
have walked along the bank. But the water's
risen since and covered up its tracks. Now
the level's rising even faster after all that
rain.'

He knelt down to take a closer look at the
map in its waterproof case. 'According to
Gonzalo, the Lost City is on the far side of
the river. And if we don't cross now, we may
never get another chance. Further up the
mountain, the river will be like a tsunami.'
Already a telltale foam of white water was
visible where the water churned over the
rocks in the centre of the river.

'You have to be joking, Beck,' said
Marco. 'We haven't a chance against a current
like that.'

But Beck had already made up his mind.
'Tarzan's little helper to the rescue,' he
muttered as he hacked at the root of a vine
winding around the colossal trunk of a
nearby tree. Cutting it free, he wrapped the
vine around his shoulder like a climbing
rope. Then he knelt down next to the twins
as if he were a commando giving a briefing
before a raid.

'We'll use the vine like a looped rope,' he
said. 'I'll tie myself to it and cross first.
Marco, Chrissy, you hold onto the rope on
the bank but stand about three metres
apart. That means I've got two anchors if I
slip or fall. Then, when I'm over, Chrissy,
you tie yourself onto it and we'll be anchoring
you from both banks. Then, when
Marco crosses, we'll both be on the far side.
That way everyone has two anchors at all
times.'

Beck tied the vine around his waist and
waded slowly into the torrent. As the water
began to rise around his legs, the twins
braced themselves hard against the bank,
ready to take the strain if he slipped. 'Face
upstream and lean forward on your stick
against the current,' Beck shouted. 'That
way your legs and the stick are like a tripod.
It's much more stable.' By the time he
reached the far bank, the twins could hardly
hear his voice above the roar of the water.

'He's ready for you, sis,' Marco said, once
Beck was safe on dry land and had given the
thumbs-up.

Christina waded into the swirling water.
Almost at once her legs began to feel like
jelly, and as the force of the current took
hold, she fought to keep her balance on the
uneven floor of the river bed.

'It's too strong,' she screamed back to
Marco over the roar of the water. 'I can
hardly move.'

Marco urged her onwards from the bank,
shouting words of encouragement at every
step as she slowly edged forward. Beck
looked on nervously, the vine wrapped
around his body and his hands gripping
firmly as he dug his feet into the bank,
preparing to take the strain if Christina was
sucked away.

She was soon taking the full force of
the river. After nearly losing her balance
in the middle, where the current was at its
strongest, she could at last feel the water
getting shallower as she edged towards the
far side. Sensing safety, she took a big stride
forward, putting all her weight on the
surface of a flat rock. In an instant, she was
gone. Her foot went from under her on the
slippery surface, and the current was immediately
dragging her down and the
foaming water smothering her face.

But Beck and Marco were ready for her.
Digging their feet into the banks, they took
the full weight of her body as the vine
locked around her. Beck saw the danger at
once. The water was rising in a wave around
Christina's face and her head was being
sucked under by the force of the water. He
started running downstream, yelling at
Marco to do the same. In an instant the
tension was released and Christina's head
bobbed up again as she struggled to regain
her balance, vomiting water from her lungs.

Seeing his chance, Beck pulled on the
vine with all his strength as Marco let more
length slip through his fingers, and
Christina was dragged coughing and
spluttering towards the bank.

'That was a little too close for comfort,'
said Beck later as they sat drying out around
the crackling warmth of a fire. Marco had
crossed with no further incident. Beck
had been carrying the burning charcoal in.
the Kogi bag and had fanned it back into
life. Even he was surprised they'd managed
to keep it smouldering inside its bark
envelope during the difficult river crossing.
Christina's teeth were chattering uncontrollably
and her face had gone deathly pale,
so the two boys huddled as close to her
as they could, warming and comforting
her shivering body with the heat from
their own.

When at last the heat from the fire began
to get through to her, Beck grabbed the
sweetcorn from the Kogi bag and soon had
it roasting over the flames. Soon they sat
munching greedily as the juice from the
cobs dribbled down their chins. But Beck
was worried. All three of them were wet and
exhausted. And ahead of them lay a long,
steep climb as the jungle rose into the
mountains above them. But somewhere up
there, now surely only a day's walk away, lay
the goal they had fought so hard to reach.

He let the twins rest as long as he dared.
Finally he stood up and kicked out the
remains of the fire, taking care to preserve
another smouldering stick in the bark
envelope. Even if it went out, it would be
far easier to light again than fresh wood
from the forest. 'One last effort, guys.
Marco, Chrissy, we've come so far. We can't
give up now. Remember, it's not for us, it's
for them. Your dad and Uncle Al are
depending on us.'

High in the trees above them, Ringo suddenly
appeared and gave a squawk of
agreement. The twins slowly hauled themselves
to their feet, and a look of grim
determination passed between them.

* * *

Following the banks of the river, which fell
away into a canyon beside them, they made
slow and painful progress upwards,
zigzagging back and forth across the face of
the slope to ease the pressure on their legs.
In places they found themselves scrambling
up almost sheer cliffs covered with the
gnarled roots of trees, and were forced to
make long detours into the jungle.

At last the river gorge began to narrow
and a series of waterfalls plunged into the
ravine like the tiers of a wedding cake.
The temperature too had begun to drop as
the day wore on and they climbed ever
higher. 'It seems to be levelling out now and
the jungle's not quite so thick,' said Marco
as, late in the afternoon, they stopped to
rest.

Checking for snakes before clearing a
space on the jungle floor, Beck spread out
the map in front of them. 'According to
Gonzalo, the ceremonial path to the Lost
City runs down to the edge of the plateau
not far from the river. It just has to be so
close to where we are now.' He pointed to
where a line snaked across the parchment.
Alongside it were written the words
Via
Indígena
in a faded, spidery hand.

Beck shouted instructions as, spreading
out, they walked slowly forward in a line,
scraping the floor of the jungle with their
sticks.

'It's got to be here somewhere,' muttered
Marco, a note of desperation in his voice,
when after an hour of searching they had
still found nothing.