Excavation (16 page)

Sam quickly related what they planned to do.

“That's insane! You're risking your lives on pretty thin guesses!”

Sam nodded toward the roof. “I'd rather take my chances than just wait for the sky to fall.”

Ralph had no answer. He just shifted from foot to foot nervously. “Okay, boss, but be careful,” he finally conceded.

Denal stepped onto the tile floor, his face ashen. “I come with.”

“No!” Maggie and Sam called out in unison.

Denal just continued onward. “I know old stories. I help. I no die without a fight, too.” He followed their path to join them. He glared up at Sam. “My mama, before she die, she teach me to be brave. I no shame her.”

Sam stared for a moment, then clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Thanks, Denal.”

He smiled weakly, but his eyes kept flicking between the Incan king and the patterned floor. With shaky fingers, he fished out a bent cigarette from a pocket and slipped it between his lips. He caught Sam eyeing the unlit cigarette and stared back defiantly. “Let's go.”

Sam turned to leave. “You know those things will stunt your growth.”

“Not if I don't light them,” Denal said sourly.

“You find a way out of here,” Sam said, “and you can smoke your lungs black.”

Maggie trailed behind them. “Keep moving. This roof isn't goin' to last forever.”

Sam continued in silence. Each step onto a new tile
brought an ever-growing sense of dread. But nothing happened. Between Maggie and Denal, they seemed to have solved the riddle of the tiles, but what then?

Sam came to the midpoint of the floor and froze.

Maggie called from a couple rows back. “Why've you stopped?”

He stepped aside so she could see.

“Oh.”

Sam was extra careful proceeding onto the next gold tile. The blood made the surface slick. He was mindful not to touch the torn and fouled body of Juan that shared the tile. The dead man's eyes seemed to track him as he passed. Sam glanced away, but the smell was strong this close, the metallic tang of blood mixed with the more earthy smell of decay. He continued on, sighing loudly once he stepped onto the next tile.

For a few rows, he sped faster, glad to escape the dead man. Neither of the other two spoke as they followed. Only the scuff of boots indicated they continued behind him. Farther across the room, he could hear Ralph and Norman mumbling nervously, but their words were too quiet to make out.

At last Sam stepped onto the four gold tiles that made up the pictograph of
janan pacha
. Bending in relief, Sam leaned his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes and thanked the heavens for his safe passage.

Maggie and Denal joined him.

“You both okay?” Sam asked, straightening.

Maggie could only nod. Her face shone with a sheen of sweat. Denal's cigarette trembled between his lips, but he bobbed his head, too.

Sam glanced to the wall. They were now grouped at the upper left of the pictograph. The last row of tiles was all silver. Only the statue itself, in the middle of the wall, stood upon a gold tile amid a small pile of gold and silver trinkets and offerings. “Now what? How do we reach the statue from here?”

Maggie turned in a slow circle. “Listen.”

Sam frowned. “What—?” Then he realized what she meant.

Denal did, too. “It stopped.”

Sam cocked his head. There was no trace of the ticking machinery that geared the booby trap.

“It ended as soon as we arrived here,” Maggie said.

Sam nodded. “Our following the path correctly must have deactivated it.”

“So it should be safe to follow the silver tiles to the statue?” Maggie asked, glancing toward Denal.

The Quechan boy shrugged. “I no know.”

Sam took a girding breath and stepped off the gold tiles and onto the row of silver. He cringed for a heartbeat, but nothing happened. He glanced to Maggie.

“The gears are still silent,” she said, meeting his eyes. “It must be okay.”

Sam continued tile by tile to the golden statue. The others followed. Soon they stood before the Incan warrior. He seemed to be glaring down at them from under a headdress. The three studied their adversary.

The statue stood almost a full two yards taller than most men, posted with his back to a narrow silver archway in the granite wall. He bore a staff in one hand and a typical Incan bola in the other, three stones slung on llama tendon.

“Look at his
llautu
crown,” Sam said, pointing to the figure's braided headdress topped by three parrot feathers and a fringe of tassels. “It definitely marks this one as a Sapa Inca. One of their kings.”

“Yes, but the facial detail an' depiction of realistic musculature is unlike the Incas' usual stylization,” Maggie whispered. “It's as perfect a work as Michelangelo's
David
.”

Sam leaned closer to study the ancient king's face. “Strange. Whichever Sapa Inca is represented here was clearly worshiped as no other.”

A step away, Denal cleared his throat. “The wall…it is not stone.”

Sam turned away from the statue. The boy's gaze was not on the golden idol, but the black wall behind it. Sheer granite spread all around. “What do you mean?”

Maggie gasped. “Denal means it's not
stonework
. Look there are no seams or joints. It's not stacked stone blocks like the temple.”

Sam moved to the rock and ran a palm along it. “It's a wall of solid granite.”

A voice called from across the room. “Did you find anything?” It was Norman.

Sam turned his head and yelled, “We found the mountain!” Sam arched his neck and examined the wall. “The pyramid must have been built at the base of this cliff face.”

“But why?” Maggie asked.

Sam thought out loud. “The Incas revered mountains. But why build a
huaca
, or holy place here? What was so special about this cliff?”

Maggie answered after a moment, “Wh…what if there was a cave?”

Sam slapped his hand against the granite wall. “Of course. Caverns were considered to be
pacariscas
, mystical places joining the three worlds of their religion. They were often used as places of ritual. It makes sense!”

“But where's the entrance?” Maggie asked.

“I don't know, but the statue must be a key. Did you notice the silver archway behind the statue? It's large enough to cover a narrow opening.”

Maggie and Sam returned to the statue. Sam leaned his shoulder against it and tried to shove the idol aside.

“Be careful,” Maggie warned.

Denal stood with one fist clenched at his throat.

But nothing happened. The statue could not be budged. “Damn it,” Sam swore, taking off his Stetson and swiping his damp hair back. “The thing must weigh close to a ton.”

Maggie frowned at him. “Brute force isn't the answer. With the complexity shown here, there has to be a mechanism
to unlock the pathway.” She elbowed Sam aside and approached the statue. Stretching on the tip of her toes, she examined it closely, her nose only inches from the golden surface. Slowly she worked her way down the statue's physique.

Sam grew impatient, especially when the floor began to tremble again. “This place isn't going to stand much longer,” he mumbled.

“Aha!” Maggie exclaimed. She turned to Sam, her face at the Incan king's waist. “Here's the answer.” She pointed to the statue's belly button.

“What are you talking about?”

Maggie reached and pushed her finger through the hole. Her entire finger was swallowed up. “The Incas considered the navel to be a place of power. They believed the umbilicus once joined the physical body of man to the gods of creation.”

Sam crouched with Denal. “Another fusion of worlds.”

Maggie slipped her finger out. “It's a keyhole. Now we just need to find the key.”

Sam straightened, thinking aloud. “The navel links the gods of
janan pacha
to mankind in the physical world…to
cay pacha
. If this chamber is a point where all
three
worlds unite…then the key must be something from the lower world, from
uca pacha
.”

Maggie clutched his elbow in understanding. “By inserting the key into the navel lock, then all three worlds would be united.”

“Yeah, but where do we find such a key?”

Denal nudged Sam. He pointed to the statue's feet, to where a small mound of gold and silver offerings were piled. “
Uca pacha
lies at bottom of feet.”

“Och! We've been feckin' fools for sure.” Maggie dropped to her knees and began sifting through the objects. “The lower world! Sometimes it's best to hide somethin' in plain sight.”

Sam joined her. Working through the pile, he held up a golden figurine of a panther with ruby eyes, then cast it aside. “There's enough wealth here to finance a small nation.”

“And it'll do us not a nit of good if we don't survive.”

As if to remind them further, the temple rumbled and shook as another section gave way. The tiles overhead trembled and clanged. One of the booby traps sprang on its own, triggered by the roof's shaking: a huge granite block carved with a demon's face crashed to the floor and embedded itself in the silver tile below.

Maggie and Sam eyed each other grimly.

Ralph called from behind them, coughing slightly. “That's it! We're sealed in, folks! If there's another way out, I suggest you find it damn quick!”

Maggie whispered, “The structure of the floor and trap is coming apart. If Norman and Ralph are goin' to join us—”

“You're right. Keep searching.” Sam stood up. “Ralph! Norman! Come on over! Now!” The two other students were obscured in a cloud of granite dust. But Ralph waved his flashlight in acknowledgment and started toward them.

Sam returned to Maggie. “They're coming. Any luck?”

She shook her head; her hand trembled as she picked through the pieces. “I can't think clearly. What if I miss a clue? We won't have a second chance.” A small sob escaped her throat.

Sam knelt beside her. “We'll get out of here.” He put an arm around her shoulders and held her tight.

She leaned into his embrace, silent for several heartbeats. Then a final shudder passed through her, and she seemed to relax again. Slipping from under his arm, she turned to Sam, her dusty face marred by trails of tears. She wiped at her cheeks and mumbled, “Thanks, Sam.”

No words were needed. He nodded and returned to his own search alongside her. They worked as a team, sifting through the pile of objects. Sam almost tossed aside their
salvation, but Maggie stopped him, grabbing his wrist.

Sam held a foot-long golden dagger with a silver handle. “What?”

“Look at the carving on the hilt.”

Sam raised it into the beam of the flashlight Denal was holding. It bore the figure of a man with prominent fangs. Sam recognized the figure from ancient ceramic pottery. “It's the fanged god Aiapaec.”

Maggie nodded. “A god of the Moche tribes!”

Sam remembered his uncle's assessment of this buried pyramid. It was clearly Moche. Here was more proof. “This will make Uncle Hank happy…that is, if we get out of here to show it to him.” He began to place the dagger aside.

Maggie stopped him again. “Wait, Sam. Some scholars say that the Incas may have incorporated the Moche god, Aiapaec, into their own pantheon of gods. But the Inca's renamed him—Huamancantac!”

“The god of guano…bat dung?” Sam stared at her as if she were mad. What was her point? Then understanding dawned on him. “The god of bats…and
caverns
! A spirit from the lower world,
uca pacha
!”

Sam sprang to his feet, dagger in hand.

“It must be the key!” Maggie exclaimed.

Just then Ralph and Norman joined the trio by the statue. “I don't know what you're all excited about, but I'd suggest we get out of here.” He pointed toward the rear of the chamber.

Sam turned. There
was
no rear of the chamber. With the dust settling from the last of the major rumbles, the back of the room was a tumbled pile of blocks. “Christ!” Overhead, a quarter of the heavy roof tiles hung crooked or tilted. And in the background, the continual groan of tons of granite sounded from above their heads.

Norman's voice was a squeak. “There's no place else to run.”

“Maybe there is,” Sam said. He turned and stabbed the dagger into the statue's belly. It sank to the level of the hilt.

Nothing happened.

Norman shifted his feet, staring at the impaled knife. “Okay, Brutus, you've stabbed Caesar. What now?”

Sam tried turning the knife like a key, but it refused to move. He pulled the dagger back out, his eyes on Maggie. “I was sure you were right.” He held the gold dagger between them, clutching it tightly. “Th…this has to be the key!” he said between clenched teeth, frustration trembling his voice. “
It must be
!”

As he spoke the last word, the dagger shifted in his hands. The length of gold blade molded itself into a jagged lightning bolt. It shone brightly in the beam of the flashlights. Sam almost dropped the knife, but his left hand steadied his right, both palms now clutching the hilt. “Did anyone else see that? Or did my mind just snap?” Sam ran his fingers over the knife, searching for the catch that had triggered the transformation. He found nothing.

Another cascade of rock tumbled behind them. It was the chamber's roof collapsing, taking out half of the roof tiles. The clang of rock and metal echoed sharply. Death rolled toward them in a gnash of rock, but none of them moved.

Instead, Maggie raised her hands toward the dagger, then lowered them back again, clearly afraid of disturbing the miracle. “It's now the symbol of Pachacamac. The Incan god of creation.” She met Sam's wide eyes. “Use it!”