Chiun sat up slowly, appraising the young face with its ancient eyes. "And who is your father?" he asked, exhibiting no surprise that the boy could talk.
"One who knew the Old Tongue," the boy said proudly. "He is dead, but I know the Old Tongue, too."
There was something hopeful in the boy's dark eyes. "And what is the Old Tongue?" Chiun asked.
"The language of the gods. Not this white language that the white priest taught me, but the true language. The language of power."
"Did your father have the power?"
"Yes. When he died."
"What did he say?"
"That I alone of my family would walk with the gods."
"I do not understand," Chiun said.
"Nor do I. Yet."
"Ah." Chiun did not press him. The child spoke like a man, firm, calm, sparing.
"That was why I had to come with you," the boy said with quiet urgency.
"Was the pain very great?"
"Yes." It was plain, true, simple.
"Is it bearable now?"
"It is always bearable. But it is better now. Thank you, Master."
"My name is Chiun."
"My name is Po."
"For crying out loud, you speak English," Remo said, throwing down the fish. "Why wouldn't you talk when I asked you where the village was?"
"I do not belong in the village," Po said. "I belong with you. For now. Until I have completed my journey."
Remo put his hands on his hips. "Will you listen to that?" he said. "What journey?"
"Make the fire," Chiun said. "We have things to discuss."
* * *
They roasted the fish over the open fire. While they ate, Po told them about his family, his meeting with Sebastian Birdsong, the invasions of the Lost Tribes.
The boy grew drowsy after eating, and the three of them sat quietly with their thoughts. It was then that they heard the sound, far and muffled, like the mewling of a cat. Remo sprang to his feet.
"No danger," Chiun said, frowning, trying to locate the source of the sound. It seemed to be buried. No footfalls, no breathing.
The boy shook himself awake. "I heard nothing," he said.
"You cannot hear what we hear. Where is the Temple of Magic?" Chiun asked.
The boy pointed toward the faint sound. "It is near."
Remo and Chiun sprang away like two animals. The boy pulled himself to his feet, amazed at the speed and grace of the two men.
No, not men, he said to himself. That is why they fight as they do. That is why they can run faster than the wind. These are beings like Kukulcan himself who walk with me.
He found a stick and used it to walk, easing some of the constant ache in his leg. Near the entrance to the temple was a crashed helicopter. The bodies inside had already decomposed nearly to bone. By the time he reached the moss-covered, debris-littered ruin, Remo and Chiun were already flinging away the huge stones like handfuls of sand as the sound inside grew louder.
There is nothing these two cannot do, Po thought in amazement. They can build a world if they wish.
He cocked his head. The sound was stronger from the rear of the pyramidal base, coming from behind a barricade of rock.
"It is here," he shouted.
The two men came around. "Listen," he said. "Dig here, and you will find it more quickly."
Both men immediately went to work on a mammoth stone, their hands vibrating on the rock, their bodies angling for leverage.
They did not doubt me because of my youth, Po thought. I spoke truth, and they understood.
And when they lifted the great stone, the noise burst out of the rock as if it had been buried there for a thousand years.
Weeping. A woman weeping.
?Chapter Five
Mad. I'm going mad.
Dr. Elizabeth Drake bit her fingers to calm herself down, but the screaming wouldn't stop. Her screaming. Her fingers were raw and bleeding from trying to keep herself under control, her voice hoarse, her hands shaking, the food exhausted, and she was going to die. The fear lurched out of her like a living thing, the scream filling up the icebox-sized space where she had lived in darkness for— how long? Days? Weeks?
Ever since Diehl ran out on her. Men. They sniffed around you like dogs until you needed them, and then they sprouted wings. Dick Diehl, the archaeologist. The scholar. The scientist.
The rat.
How dare he assume she was dead? How dare he run away to save his own skin while she lay trapped beneath twenty tons of rock?
She panted softly to ease the pain in her chest from the racking sobs, the screams that shook her until she gagged. On her hands and knees, she felt her way over to the pile of now empty knapsacks stuffed into one corner of the small space.
She knew where everything was. This was her world now, the tiny, dark space where she lived, and she knew every centimeter of it even without the flashlight she carried in her waistband. Ahead, beneath the jagged stone, were the knapsacks. When Diehl threw her to safety during the attack, she had landed on the pile of canvas bags containing the dig's food supply. That was a stroke of luck, the only one in this whole luckless expedition. Otherwise she would have starved to death.
With trembling fingers she undid the clasp of her own knapsack and extracted the plastic vial that had kept her sane during her endless imprisonment. One Valium. The last one.