The Jaguar Trials Read online

  Ben saw a shadow of doubt pass over Luis’s face.

  Erskine took another tiny step. The edge of the jaguar skin trailed along the ground, and Ben felt his body tense as he watched. “I concede that you can have half of everything we find,” the Professor said. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

  Ben’s skin crawled. The professor’s reasonable voice didn’t match his cold eyes at all. He saw Erskine inch forward as Luis hesitated.

  And that moment’s hesitation was all it took.

  Erskine sprang, knocking the rifle sideways. There was a blur of movement as he and Luis grappled for the gun, blocking the entrance.

  Luis was younger, fitter, but Erskine had taken him by surprise – and the hunter had the heavy pack still on his back, which unbalanced him.

  There was a shot like a thunderclap, and Ben jolted with the noise. A red spray spattered the ground. Luis’s eyes had grown wide as if in surprise. Ben heard his rasping breathing. A trickle of blood oozed out of the corner of the hunter’s mouth. Then he was crumpling, gripping on to Ben as he fell.

  Ben shrank back. He felt bile in his throat as Luis twitched and grasped. Then the hunter went still, a dark stain spreading under him, and little pools of blood collecting between the stones.

  Erskine cradled the rifle a moment, then turned to Ben. “Now,” he said. “Go through. Time is against us.”

  Ben numbly led the way, followed by a shaking Yara, then a stumbling Raffie. He stepped over the body straddling the entrance, trying not to look at the blood; the mess of chest.

  A thought came to him. When Luis had kicked him to the ground, might he have been doing that to save him from getting shot?

  Ben’s shoulders scraped the rock as he went through the narrow space. Inside, the air was strangely humid, and black ferns grew from alcoves in the stone. He pushed between the fronds, squeezing on and through and out…

  Ben gazed at the scene beyond, his breath catching. He was at the top of a track that looped into a deep valley of rock – a stretched basin of rock, sealed at both ends.

  And on the dry valley floor he could see buildings. Buildings! Houses of bare stone with slits for windows, and triangular ends where the roofs had once been. There was no sign of any movement. Broad, empty streets led to a huge central plaza.

  And in the middle of the plaza was…

  For a moment, Ben forgot about Erskine standing behind him with a gun; he even briefly forgot about the murder of Luis. His heart quivered.

  Even from a distance, Ben knew without a doubt that he was looking at the temple. It dwarfed all the other buildings.

  It was a kind of pyramid. Great blocks of grey stone were tiered into wide steps on each of its four sides. A steep ramp led to a box-shaped chamber at the top, with a gaping square doorway full of deep shadows.

  That’s where I have to go.

  Yara squeezed Ben’s arm, and his jaguar marks hurt from the pressure.

  “El Dorado,” breathed Rafael. He rubbed behind his glasses. “Look there.” He pointed at the far end of the valley. Ben saw a towering, curving dam, and behind it he glimpsed the surface of a vast lake.

  “Ingenious,” Erskine muttered. “A freshwater reservoir. Vital in such an arid place… Now move!” He jabbed the gun barrel into Ben’s back.

  Ben started down the slope. He had to get to the temple fast. The brittle wings of a yellow moth disintegrated under his foot as he picked up his pace. There were only a couple of hours of daylight left at most. Somehow, he had to find the mask and keep it away from Erskine. Return it to the statue of the golden king.

  He had to free the spirits, and hope Dad could then leave their world.

  But would Dad be allowed to?

  Ben’s heart seemed to fill his chest. Inside his pocket he heard the jade and amber stones tap together in their pouch.

  Somewhere in that temple, the golden king was waiting; his final trial was waiting.

  Ben’s boots kicked up dust as he hurried on.

  Whatever that trial was, he was ready to face it.

  Nightfall is coming soon.

  The necklace of jaguar claws is round the shaman’s throat.

  Fangs scratch his face.

  Blood drips.

  Slowly, I feel my four feet pad the temple chamber.

  I see the tall man dressed in white. Three others.

  The boy.

  But fate must be followed.

  I can do nothing to help him now.

  PART 3

  CITY OF Z

  “Thence, spread out before our eyes, we saw in the open plain greater spectacles for our vision of admiration and wonder … a great city.”

  MANUSCRIPT 512

  “We encountered no other road except the one that led to the dead city.”

  MANUSCRIPT 512

  Ben hurried down the slope in the fading light. El Dorado stretched below, eerily silent, the temple at its centre.

  “Faster!” Erskine hissed, gesturing with the rifle.

  Ben kept alert, exchanging stolen glances with Yara and Rafael, looking for a chance – any chance – to get the gun off Erskine; to escape.

  Mist brushed Ben’s face like ghostly fingertips. The valley walls rose round them. Clouds swirled above, looking out of place over such a parched landscape.

  “There must be funny weather here,” whispered Rafael. “Maybe that’s why this City never showed up on any satellite pictures.”

  Has that kept El Dorado secret all these years? Ben wondered as he quickly descended the series of switchbacks. He had the sudden, ominous sensation of being trapped here, between the valley cliffs and the swirling sky.

  As they reached the bottom, the track levelled off and widened, and in front of Ben towered a marble archway. As he led the others through, he saw that it was covered with ornate carvings of water: springs, fountains, rivers.

  “Strange,” commented Yara quietly. “In such a dry, dry place.”

  Ben followed the paved street, peering into the low doorways of the stone houses. He scanned round for any signs of movement, but there was nothing – only the dark windows staring back at him, like empty eyes.

  “Not much of a city of gold,” muttered Rafael. He poked his head through a doorway carved round with crumbling hieroglyphs.

  Ben saw brightly coloured glass beads scattered around the entrance – from a necklace perhaps, the string long since decayed away. He saw Yara pick up a small stone carving of a mother, arms wrapped round her child.

  “Keep walking!” Erskine wrenched Yara’s arm so that she dropped the figure. “All of you!”

  Ben continued on. How long since anybody walked this street? he wondered. He looked at the grey flagstones polished smooth by centuries of footsteps. A breeze rippled the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment he heard the muted sounds of talk, shouts, laughter.

  Then there was just the wind sighing through gaps in the stonework and the rushed tread of their feet. His marks throbbed even more than when he’d seen the black jaguar dead. Who had lived here? Why had they left?

  The temple loomed up ahead.

  “Faster!” Erskine pulled Rafael roughly forward.

  Yara moved ahead of Ben – but Erskine yanked her back by the hair.

  “Jaguar Boy must always go first.” He clamped her chin in his fist. “He was chosen for this. Clear?”

  Ben moved to pull him away from her, but a punch slammed his cheek and he fell to the ground.

  Erskine stood over him. Ben looked at the empty eye sockets of the jaguar’s head on Erskine’s scalp, and the bloody fangs resting against his forehead.

  Ben’s jaw tensed as he got to his feet. Whatever happened, Erskine was never going to put on the golden king’s mask.

  I am going to stop you.

  But Ben knew he had to hurry. Through the veil of cloud the light was dimming fast.

  He came out into the plaza and stumbled a little as he stared at the temple dominating its centre. Its great grey
steps rose upwards until it seemed to fill the whole sky. Even from a distance it had looked imposing, but close up was something else entirely.

  Ben gazed at the huge, smooth blocks that made up its stepped sides. His eyes followed the steep ramp to the dark doorway at the top.

  “Careful in there,” Rafael panted from close behind, as Ben started up the incline. “The Ancients will have definitely booby-trapped this place!”

  “We have got to get rid of the gun!” hissed Yara. “We cannot let Erskine take the mask!”

  “Be ready,” Ben mouthed back. He’d have to make a move soon.

  Very soon.

  Up they climbed, Ben’s leg muscles tensed against the gradient, his stomach lurching from the dizzying drop as he got higher.

  They arrived at the top, panting, Ben’s nerves taut with expectation.

  “Go inside” Erskine ordered.

  With a wary nod to his friends, Ben passed first through the square entrance into the deep shadows beyond.

  A passageway disappeared into the gloom. Pale beams came from high openings, picking out animal-like faces carved along the walls. The eyes seemed to watch Ben as he walked past them, and the further along the corridor he went, the more sinister the faces became in the decreased light – the teeth sharper, the eyes like holes.

  “Hurry!” Erskine swung the rifle in irritation. He had a wild look that made Ben’s skin shudder.

  The passageway ended, and Ben came to a stop in front of a high stone door.

  The professor peered at the hieroglyphs carved there in the half-light. “A message from the Ancients,” he muttered, frowning. “Some kind of warning… A curse.”

  Ben’s throat tightened. Curse?

  “Choose freely…” Erskine translated. “But beware.”

  “CHOOSE FREELY, BUT BEWARE,

  FOR ONLY ONE WILL BE

  THE GOLDEN KING’S TRUE FACE.

  THE KING WILL PROTECT HIS CITY

  FROM THOSE NOT PURE IN HEART,

  FROM HE WHO CHOOSES FALSE.”

  “Go through!” Erskine barked.

  Ben turned to look at Yara and Rafael, seeing their eyes wide in the murky light. Heart hammering, he pressed his hands on the door and heaved it open – then blinked as light spilled over him and he stepped forward into it.

  He was in a three-sided chamber, where there was an opening stretching right down to the floor – a wide window that hadn’t been visible from the top of the track. It gave a view right down the valley, across the houses and towards the dam.

  “At last,” he heard Erskine whisper. He saw the professor lit by a strange gold sheen as light was reflected on to him by something in the room.

  And as Ben’s eyes adjusted, he saw it – in the dead centre of the room – on a high plinth made up of polished black marble steps. He hardly heard Raffie’s excited cries, or Yara’s murmurs of amazement. He couldn’t take his gaze away from the gold statue on top of the plinth.

  The statue was taller than a real man, and not really a man at all. The feet were paws; and instead of fingers, the raised hands were edged with razor-sharp claws. A sweeping tail curved from behind.

  The golden king.

  Ben edged nearer. He felt the jaguar marks burn with some kind of intense energy, at once painful and thrilling.

  “Look at the head.” Yara pressed close against Ben’s shoulder, and he felt her tremble. “He has no face!”

  Ben stared up at the featureless gold surface where the face should have been. It was a haunting sight.

  “Ben!” Rafael pointed a shaky finger.

  Lying on the black marble of the bottom step, Ben saw two masks.

  Two identical gold masks.

  Two ornate gold masks, each decorated more beautifully than anything Ben had ever seen. Not even the bat or bird or monkey icons could match them.

  To Ben, the masks looked exactly the same, with gaping jaws and sleek, bared fangs; delicately curling whiskers and almond-shaped eye sockets.

  Everything about the masks spoke of beauty, strength, power.

  A jaguar. Two jaguars.

  “Awesome,” breathed Yara.

  Rafael looked at Ben in panic mode. “How are you going to know which is the golden king’s true face? Remember the curse on the door? If you choose the wrong one, you are bound to die a horrible and painful death!”

  “You have to be sure, Ben,” Yara agreed. “This must be the final trial our legend speaks of.”

  My final trial.

  How long had it been since Ben had first started out on these trials? It felt like months, not days.

  “Only one,” Erskine muttered. His fingers hovered over the masks, twitching, as if he was dying to touch them, but was afraid to. The man glanced out at the valley, and Ben saw how pale the light had become. “Choose, Jaguar Boy!” he snarled.

  Ben looked from one mask to the other, then from Rafael to Yara, feeling panic squeeze his insides. Even if he did pick the right one, that would be playing straight into the professor’s hands.

  “I must wear the mask before nightfall!” Erskine lifted the gun and held the barrel to Rafael’s head. “Choose!”

  “Wait!” There must be a way to know, Ben told himself desperately.

  He looked from one to the other, trying to detect any differences between them. The weak light created a sheen across the masks, drawing him closer. But he was hesitant to actually touch them. He peered closely at the left one, seeing his worried face reflected in the smoother parts of its gold surface.

  Ben focused on the other mask. Was there anything about the design that might single it out? No, both seemed identical in every way.

  Did one have a different feeling compared to the other?

  “Choose.” Erskine’s voice cut acrosss Ben’s thinking, low and dangerous. He saw the man tap Rafael’s head with the tip of the gun, and Raffie lifted his chin and closed his eyes, his face deathly pale.

  Ben looked at the second mask again in frustration. There had to be something; some way to tell which one was the true mask!

  He peered closer at them, scanning their surfaces – then felt a small jolt go through him.

  Ben looked again, at the right mask, then at the left one, trying to take in what he was seeing.

  The mask on the left was as it had been when he’d first scrutinized it, reflecting back Ben’s face in its smooth parts.

  But it was the mask on the right that really caught his attention.

  For reflected in the gold of that right-hand mask wasn’t Ben’s face at all. Instead, blinking back at him, was the face of a jaguar. His jaguar!

  Their eyes locked – Ben and the jaguar – as they had done that day on the boat. Emotion surged through Ben. This mask was the one – it must be! The golden king’s true face!

  Ben had the urge to shout what he’d seen to the others, but he forced himself to show zero emotion. Instead, he continued to look at the masks, as if still deciding. It was now or never time with Erskine. Or Dad was never coming back.

  And the plan he was formulating in his head was going to be risky. Too risky.

  But I have to try.

  Ben stared steadily at Yara, flicking his eyes towards Raffie, then back at her – Be ready – and saw the tiniest worried nod in reply.

  “Choose now!” He saw Erskine his finger tense against the trigger.

  “Don’t shoot!” said Ben quickly. “I know which it is.”

  “Don’t tell him, Ben!” cried Rafael in anguish. His forehead was beaded with sweat. “What about your dad? You’ll never save him if Erskine gets the mask!

  Ben shook his head. “We’ve lost, Rafael,” he said, letting his body sag. “We don’t even know if Dad can come back.” Pulse racing, he held one of the masks out to Erskine, and saw the rifle lower a little.

  Erskine narrowed his eyes, then reached to take it.

  And it was in that split second, while Erskine’s attention was fixed on being given the mask, that Ben made his move.
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  He flung the mask towards Erskine, taking him completely off guard, then knocked the rifle away with a cry.

  The gun clattered to the floor, going off with a deafening crack. Shards of black marble sprayed across the floor as the bullet hit the plinth. Ben sprang to take the other mask.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Rafael lurch back from the blast. He went down hard on to the stone flags and lay there, holding his head.

  “Go, Ben!” screamed Yara. With a yell, she kicked the gun away and it clattered over the stone paving, sliding through the opening and dropping out of sight. With a roar, Erskine swivelled to land a punch on Yara’s side, and she spun back with a clipped shout.

  “Yara! Raffie!” Ben saw Erskine hurtling towards him – but he couldn’t seem to move. His friends… They needed help…

  “You must complete your trials, Ben!” Yara cried from the floor, clutching her leg. “Leave us! Go!”

  Ben came to his senses and leapt up the first marble step of the statue’s plinth, only a few seconds ahead of Erskine. He jumped on to the next step, and then the next, scrabbling to find grip on the polished surface, struggling to keep hold of the heavy mask.

  He got to the top step, reaching the paw feet of the king, and used both hands to lift the mask towards the empty face.

  Brushing against the gold statue sent shock waves through Ben’s body as he stretched, and he felt his jaguar marks go hot, as if a branding iron had been pressed on to his bare skin.

  He saw Erskine scaling the plinth, coming after him, and Ben gulped air as he forced himself to fight the pain, and reach higher. Higher!

  There were only minutes of daylight left. Only seconds before he reached his goal.

  Ben put on a burst of speed, but Erskine was gaining. Rather than slow him, the jaguar pelt seemed to give the man extra strength.

  As Ben lifted the mask level with the statue’s head, he suddenly felt a tight grip on his boot. He jerked his leg savagely, again and again, finally managing to pull his foot away – then kicked down hard with it, making contact with Erskine’s jaw. Glancing down, Ben saw him thrown off balance and nearly fall from the plinth.