Empire of Shadows (Raiders of the Arcana #1)

Twenty-Seven

As the day shifted toward afternoon, Ellie adjusted her position on the mule and thought about how much her rear end hurt.

She would have preferred to simply walk with the caravan as it set out from the riverbank toward the mountains—but when she’d started to protest, Mendez had barked at Flowers, who then picked her up and plopped her down on the beast.

Ellie had been jolting along on the animal now for the better part of the day. Muscles she didn’t know she had were starting to ache. Ellie was a Londoner. She’d never been on a horse in her life. She was sure that a mule was significantly less comfortable.

The environment around her had changed as they wove their way higher into the mountains. The surrounding trees turned from lush hardwoods to soaring Caribbean pines. Despite the increase in altitude, the air was still hot. Plenty of mosquitoes buzzed around. Ellie slapped at one and thought longingly of the tub of salve in Adam’s rucksack. The bag holding their few supplies was likely shoved into one of the myriad bundles that hung to either side of the mules.

The wilderness through which they passed was oddly quiet. When Ellie had hiked through the lower forests with Adam, the air had been alive with bird calls and the movements of both large and small animals. Perhaps those sounds were conspicuously absent here because she was traveling with such a large, groaning mass of men and mules. Still, the difference was stark enough that when the odd rodent did startle out of the brush, it surprised her.

Ellie had been keeping a careful eye on the landscape. Though she hadn’t specialized in geology, the shape of the hills suggested more karst geography—limestone bedrock that might be riddled with caves like the one they had passed through on the way here.

Another cave could be useful. If Ellie did see one, perhaps she could drive her mule into it and flee deep enough to conceal herself before anyone could come after her. Caves were also excellent sources of both bat guano and sulfur. If a university-educated woman with a knack for chemistry combined refined bat guano and sulfur with charcoal from one of the fires in the right quantities, she might find herself with a substance approximating black powder.

Ellie halted that enticing train of thought. No explosions, she reminded herself—not until she’d cleared them with Adam… but then again, he hadn’t said anything about simply concocting a few explosive materials, had he?

She was still working on her plan for how she and Adam could possibly stop Dawson and Jacobs from looting whatever they found at the end of their route. In the meantime, she had set herself to swiping every potentially useful item that she managed to get her hands on.

So far, Ellie had the magnifying lens from the foreman’s desk, as well as a broken pencil, a needle with a bit of thread in it, a pair of nail scissors, and a flask of moonshine, which she had absolutely no intention of drinking. She had opened the bottle for a single sniff and nearly burned her nose hairs off.

It was important to be prepared. One never knew when some unexpected piece of equipment might prove to be the difference between defeat and success.

Ellie was contemplating how she might pluck a hand spade from the gear strapped to the mule in front of her—and where she might conceal it on her person—when she realized that the caravan had stopped moving.

Whispers slid through the men around her in a mix of languages, threaded with an uncomfortable urgency.

“What’s going on?” Ellie demanded.

“Who knows?” Mendez retorted impatiently.

Ellie shifted in the saddle. There was really no position she could find that didn’t irritate her.

With a spark of inspiration, she stood up in the stirrups.

The mule grunted unhappily beneath her, but the change lifted her just high enough to see over the heads of the men in front of her.

The expedition’s leaders were gathered in a tight knot at the top of the caravan line, where they gestured at some object she couldn’t yet make out.

Throughout the morning, Ellie had taken time to familiarize herself with more of the men working the expedition—at least, those that didn’t simply glare at her over their rifles. It was common courtesy… and one never knew who might prove an ally rather than an enemy. Flowers had aided her efforts with casual introductions, while Mendez had glowered irritably and marched her on as quickly as possible.

The men who held the expedition’s more menial positions had been relatively friendly with her. After all, they were simply here for a paycheck. They had little sense of any difference between their current employers and the other white wealthy people who usually hired them.

Ellie had contemplated trying to sow the seeds of an outright revolt, but she had no illusions about how disposable fellows like Ram and Aditya, two of the young East Indian gentlemen recently escaped from their indentured servitude in Jamaica, would seem to someone like Jacobs if they caused any trouble.

The gathering at the front of the halted caravan included Bones, the Jamaican foreman, as well as Velegas, the grandfatherly-looking tracker. Jacobs and Dawson were with them—as was Adam, Ellie realized as his familiar frame became visible through a shift in the bodies ahead of her.

“Get back on the mule,” Mendez ordered and gave her belt a tug.

Ellie landed in the saddle with an uncomfortable thud.

“We need to go up there,” she declared.

“No chance,” Mendez retorted flatly as he shifted his rifle to the other shoulder.

Ellie looked to Flowers, who struck her as the more sympathetic party.

“Sorry, Pepa,” he said with a shrug.

She turned her face forward again, burning with frustration. The whispers around her had grown into an outright murmur as the men shuffled awkwardly, wondering what had caused the delay.

Something was going on up there, and she was being left out of it.

Ellie couldn’t afford to be left out. She had no way of knowing what piece of information might give her the advantage she needed to stay alive.

The afternoon sun beat down on her through a break in the canopy overhead. The heat of it against her shoulders gave her a little spark of inspiration. Ellie hesitated, as the inspiration would certainly earn her Mendez’s ire… but then again, Mendez wasn’t in charge. Jacobs had made it clear that he was reserving the threat of violence against Ellie as a means of keeping Adam in line.

She supposed that meant she could afford a little ire.

Surreptitiously, Ellie slipped the magnifying lens out of her pocket. Holding it low against her thigh, she turned it carefully back and forth until it winked at her as it caught the light.

She carefully directed the focused beam toward the back of Mendez’s trousers.

He shifted his footing uncomfortably and frowned under his mustache.

The olive fabric of his pants began to turn slightly darker in one perfect, round spot.

Mendez jolted with pain and whirled around.

“?Ay! ?Qué pedo?” he exclaimed.

Ellie had already dismounted. She darted up the line.

She heard another curse from Mendez behind her, followed by a chuckle from Flowers, as she pushed her way through the caravan.

“Pardon me, Aditya. Hello, Ram,” she noted as she darted between a trio of mules and the four East Indian fellows.

“Miss Mallory,” Ram replied with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Fajardo,” she added as she flashed a smile at the taciturn muleteer, who waved her on with an air of impatient indulgence.

She gave a cheerful wave to Nigel Reneau, the cook, and the two charming young builders from Caulker Caye, Pacheco and Lopez.

Finally, she skidded to a halt at the front of the line where Dawson and the others were clustered around something thickly veiled by greenery.

“I can’t be entirely certain…” Dawson began—and then Adam’s well-muscled forearm grasped hold of one of the vines and ripped it out of the way.

A rustling pile of foliage collapsed with a hiss and revealed what had brought the expedition to a halt.

It was another stela. The block stood perhaps five feet tall. It was carved in elegant bas relief from the same night-black stone as the monument that she and Adam had found by the waterfall.

The stela was dominated by an imposing, handsome figure ornamented with beaded necklaces, calf bands, and bracelets. His head was crowned with a spectacular headdress.

Smaller figures knelt at his feet. Their bodies were bent in supplication as their hands rose with offerings of tribute. There were seven of them.

“Ah—yes. Very helpful, Mr. Bates,” Dawson said uncomfortably.

Ellie realized that she had stopped just behind Adam’s shadow, Staines. The shorter, slightly fussy-looking guard seemed like the sort who would try to show off for the ladies when he wasn’t out in the middle of nowhere. Right now, he appeared sweaty and unhappy as he shifted his rifle awkwardly in his grip. He startled as he realized that Ellie lurked at his back.

Ellie took that as an invitation to move closer. She peered over his shoulder and studied the carving more closely.

“It is obviously a tribute to some ruler of great importance,” Dawson announced authoritatively.

“No, it isn’t,” Ellie countered. “It’s Kukulkan.”

The professor startled and nearly dropped his pencil.

Jacobs turned more slowly and pinned Ellie with a curious gaze.

It made her distinctly uncomfortable. She looked away from it to where Adam stood instead.

He grinned at her.

It felt like a vote of confidence. Ellie squeezed past Staines to point at the stone.

“See?” she prompted. “Feathered cloak, snake mask… and yet there’s a throne here. There are symbols here for both a god and a ruler. Oh!”

The exclamation escaped her as Velegas, the grandfatherly tracker, stood from where he crouched at the base of the monument. His movement revealed what lay beneath the pillar.

Like most Mayan stelae, a flat stone had been set in the ground before it to serve as an altar… and it held an offering.

The golden pelt of the jaguar was smooth and beautiful—where it hadn’t been ripped to shreds. The animal was brutally mutilated. Torn flesh revealed pieces of cracked bone.

Ellie uncomfortably recalled what Adam had told her of Padre Kuyoc’s warnings back in Santa Dolores.

The padre thinks it’s a cursed realm full of the hungry spirits of the damned…

She shook off the thought. This was hardly the time to indulge in superstition.

“This was an animal kill,” Velegas concluded as he carefully his hands on a scrap of cloth. “But I cannot tell you what animal.”

“Surely, it must have been another jaguar,” Dawson protested. He looked slightly ill as he eyed the crimson violence.

Velegas flashed the professor a glare laced with tired contempt.

“This is a female. Male jaguars may fight, but a female?” The tracker shook his head. “Something else killed her.”

“Some other animal just happened to kill a jaguar on a Mesoamerican altar stone?” Ellie retorted skeptically.

“Not here,” Adam cut in from where he stood a few feet away. “Somewhere else. There’s a blood trail.”

The knot of men by the stela shifted, allowing Velegas to push through. The old tracker crouched down in the underbrush and sharply studied the dried leaves.

“It was dragged,” he concluded.

“By what?” Dawson exclaimed nervously.

“Or who,” Jacobs cut in smoothly.

“You think a person put this here?” Dawson stammered. “What, as some sort of… threat?”

Ellie’s gaze drifted once more to the stela as she picked out more details of the beautifully engraved image.

The hands of the king-or-god were extended toward the people who bowed as his feet. In one hand were more of those square, not-Mayan characters. Ellie felt as though she could almost tease out the meaning of the glyphs—a bow, a shield, a staff.

His other hand was pierced by a sharpened spear of bone. Blood dripped from the wound.

An uncomfortable recognition sparked through her.

“This is the story of Tulan!” she blurted.

“I beg your pardon?” Dawson spluttered. He looked at Ellie as though she had just started spouting Sumerian.

“The City of Seven Caves?” Ellie clarified. “As referenced in the Popol Vuh and the Annals of the Cakchiquels? The kingdom that was the origin point for both Mayan and Aztec culture, according to their own myths and stories. Or perhaps you aren’t familiar with it.”

“Of course I am familiar with it,” Dawson retorted stuffily. “I am quite a bit more than merely familiar with it, though I fail to see how some slip of a—”

“University College, London graduate,” Adam cut in. His gaze shifted to Ellie. His eyes were warm. “I believe that’s the term you were looking for.”

Dawson gaped from Adam to Ellie. He reminded her a bit of a beached fish.

“The bas relief is depicting Tulan’s gifts to the seven tribes,” Ellie continued as she pointed out the symbols on the stone. “War. Kingship. Sacrifice.”

Ellie studied the figures that knelt before the king. They were far smaller and more humble in their ornamentation, but there was still a sense of grace and respect to how they were depicted.

She wondered who was telling the story depicted on the stone. If she was right, and it was an account of the gifts of Tulan, then those kneeling figures would have been the heroes—the founders who came to receive Tulan’s blessings and carry them back to their people.

The man who dominated the carving had human features, for all that his feathers and accouterments were clearly those of one of the more well-established Mayan deities—Aztec as well, she quickly recalled. Quetzalcoatl and Kukulkan shared much of their symbolism.

“But why build it here?” she mused aloud as her mind spun. “Why leave the story of Tulan in the middle of the forest?”

“Because it’s a boundary stone,” Dawson snapped. He drew himself up self-importantly as he tugged on his field jacket. “Because we are on the borders of Tulan.”

“We are what?” Ellie whirled to him as the significance of his comment cut through her fascination with the stone.

“I should hardly expect someone like you to understand,” Dawson sniffed stuffily.

Ellie didn’t bother to respond to the very obvious and deliberate slight. She was too busy putting the rest of the pieces together.

“You think the city at the end of the map is Tulan.” She paced away from the gathering before turning back. “But Tulan is a myth! Of course, even myths can be rooted in truth… and the annals never do say that Tulan was conquered or collapsed. Only that the founders of the great Mayan city-states received their gifts there. That it was the place where kings were made.”

She raised her eyes to Dawson.

“But if it existed, Tulan would have had to predate the earliest vestiges of Mayan civilization,” she added pointedly. “For it to have survived until the time of the conquest would have made it thousands of years old!”

Her mind reeled. Tulan, the City of Seven Caves—a Mesoamerican Eden populated by a people with the wisdom of eons—that was what Dawson believed lay at the end of her map.

If it was true, the implications were more than revolutionary. They were staggering.

“We’ve delayed long enough,” Jacobs declared, interrupting the wild spin of her thoughts. “Dispose of the animal, and let’s get going.”

He stalked away without waiting for a response, obviously confident that he would be obeyed. Dawson glared at Ellie as though her knowledge of Tulan was vaguely reprehensible, and then hurried after him.

The foreman, Bones, shouted an order over the line. The mass of mules and men creaked and complained their way back into motion.

Velegas tugged a spade from the baggage roll on the nearest mule and swung it over his shoulder. He grasped the jaguar by its hind legs and dragged it off behind the ferns.

Adam stepped aside to let the tracker by, and then shifted his gaze to Ellie.

He looked worried.

“Form the line!” Bones called. He repeated the order in Spanish.

“Go on,” Staines snapped as he waved the barrel of his Enfield at Adam.

Adam gave the gun a look—and then lifted the look to Staines. The guard cleared his throat awkwardly and took an instinctive step back.

“You know, like the foreman said,” he added more moderately.

Adam gave Ellie a nod.

“Princess,” he said.

“Mr. Bates,” she replied.

He moved away, with Staines hurrying after him.

Ellie felt an odd flush of heat as she watched him go. Was she fighting off a fever?

The thought was alarming. She certainly couldn’t afford to get ill at the moment.

“Are we going to stand here and look at the blood all day?” Mendez complained from where he and Flowers had come to a stop behind her.

“Come along, Pepa,” Flowers offered more gently, and then guided her back toward her mule.