Island of the Sun (Dark Gravity Sequence)

by Matthew J. Kirby

  “Those people are the Uros,” Amaru said. “They make those islands out of reeds, and they live on them.”

  “That boat looks like a dragon,” Finn said.

  Eleanor looked, and in the distance, two men paddled a swollen-looking boat made of bundled reeds, with an animal head snarling from the end of its high, curved prow.

  “It’s not a dragon,” Amaru said. “It’s a puma. Some people translate Titicaca to mean ‘rock puma.’”

  “Cool,” Finn said.

  Some distance later, they left the lagoon and emerged into a wide expanse of the lake, where the waves came at them higher and stronger, tossing the boat more up and down and sometimes slamming into them in a way that jarred Eleanor’s back. The constant sounds of the motor, and the wind, and the tearing of a seam in the water by their boat, soon became background noise, at least until she or one of the others had to shout over it to be heard. So none of them really tried talking.

  They traveled through those waters for twenty minutes or so, and as the far side of the lake drew nearer, Eleanor realized they were merely crossing a smaller bay and had yet to enter the real body of the lake. Another fifteen minutes later, once they rounded a large, mountainous spit of land, Eleanor saw just how big Titicaca really was, and it felt like the ocean. What she’d thought was the opposite shore turned out to be nothing more than an island, and not the Isla del Sol. The true far shore of the lake was too far away to even be seen, as was their destination.

  Amaru checked a compass and turned his boat a little to the right in a sweeping arc. “Isla del Sol is a little over forty miles ahead!” he said. “Less than two hours!”

  Eleanor realized now why he had suggested they stay the night in Copacabana. It would be late afternoon before they reached the island. Eleanor settled a bit lower in her seat and closed her eyes. The motion of the boat and the sounds of their lake crossing in her ears lulled her into a kind of daze, broken only by the occasional jolt of a larger wave, and the time passed neither especially slowly nor quickly, but it passed.

  Then Amaru said, “There it is!”

  Eleanor opened her eyes and looked ahead of the boat toward a large island of grassy slopes and terraced rocky ledges. Several smaller islands emerged from the waves around it like pieces splintered from the whole, and a few birds soared in wide orbits overhead.

  Eleanor’s mom pulled the Sync out of the pack Dr. Powers had been carrying and woke up the screen. She tapped and swiped, opening the file with von Albrecht’s ley-line map of telluric currents.

  “We’re close,” she said, as quietly as she could to be heard over the engine. They hadn’t yet discussed how they would search for the Concentrator with Amaru around. She looked up, then glanced back down at the screen, and then up again. “If we swing around the head of the island, there, we’ll be right on top of it.”

  “What’s that?” Amaru asked over his shoulder, his eyes on the water. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Uh, what’s around that point?” Dr. Powers asked, indicating the right side of the island.

  Amaru eased up on the throttle and brought the boat to a gentle drift, quieting the engine to a purr, and swiveled in his captain’s chair. “There is a bay over there,” he said, “and above that on the hill, you find the Chinkana.”

  “What is that?” Eleanor’s mom asked.

  “It means labyrinth,” Amaru said. “It is a large Inca ruin. And above that, at the top of the mountain, is the Titikala.”

  “The what?” Eleanor asked.

  “The sacred stone of the Inca,” he said. “The legends say Manco Cápac came out of a cave in that rock. He was the first man. The son of Inti, the sun god.”

  Eleanor and her mom looked at each other and then passed glances among everyone in their group. The mythical birth of a legendary child of a sun god, and an alien device that produced massive amounts of energy, both at the same location? It did not seem likely to be a coincidence.

  She felt a wave of excitement, though it was threaded with a vein of fear. The Concentrator was close. It had to be.

  “Tourists enjoy it,” Amaru said. “Do you want to go there?”

  “Yes,” Eleanor said. “I think we do.”

  CHAPTER

  9

  THERE WAS A SINGLE, LONG DOCK JUTTING FROM THE beach of the small bay. Amaru was able to pull his pontoon boat up alongside it, and then he leaped out, eased his craft into place, and secured it to the moorings. Then he opened the door on the side of the boat, and they all stepped out onto the pier.

  “Allow me to take you up there,” Amaru said.

  “I think we can manage,” Eleanor’s mom said.

  “Oh. Okay, then. I’ll wait here.” He checked his phone. “Come back in two hours? We should go to Copacabana before dark. I will call a good hotel for you.”

  “Two hours.” Luke looked at the watch on his wrist. “Got it.”

  “Thank you,” Eleanor’s mom said.

  “Okay.” Amaru stepped aside, allowing them all to pass. “You see that road? It will take you up to the ruins.”

  Eleanor saw the path he referred to, but she would not have called it a road. It was about four feet wide, smooth and lined with rocks on either side. She and the others formed a column and began the trek up the hill, but slowly, for the altitude made it arduous after only a few steps. The trail switched back and forth up the slope, buttressed in places by stone walls that looked very, very old.

  The higher they climbed, the more Eleanor felt the wind’s anger, and the more the thin, stubborn air refused to do for her what air was supposed to do, leaving her feeling a bit light-headed. It took them some time to reach the ruins, but eventually the steep path brought the Chinkana into view.

  The ruins spread out across several hundred feet of the hillside and rose up in terraces to an imposing vertical wall of deep alcoves just below the mountain’s peak. Even from below it, Eleanor could see why it was called a labyrinth. Multiple arches and doorways opened up in the tightly fitted stones, each passage leading off in a different direction. Whatever roofs the walls and chambers had once supported were gone, leaving an interconnected maze of rock open to the air and sun.

  “Should we split up to explore?” Dr. Powers asked, sounding out of breath.

  “Before we do that,” Betty said, her tone reminding Eleanor that she hadn’t yet accepted the full reality of their mission, “I need a better idea of just what it is we’re looking for.”

  The rest of the group turned toward Eleanor. As the freak who could talk to Concentrators, she was evidently expected to have the answer to that question.

  “The Concentrator is large,” Eleanor said, thinking something that conspicuous could not have gone unnoticed all this time out in the open, in a place so overrun by tourists. “It’s probably buried or hidden somehow. Where does the map show it, Mom?”

  “The chart isn’t that precise,” Eleanor’s mom said. “But it’s in this area.”

  “If only we had some of our equipment,” Dr. Powers said. “Telluric scanners or sensors could find the Concentrator, just like they found the first one.”

  “Let’s just go look around,” Julian said. “This place isn’t that big.”

  “The legend mentioned that Inca guy coming out of a rock,” Eleanor said. “Maybe we should start with that? Maybe there’s a cave or something.”

  “Amaru said that rock’s above the labyrinth,” Finn said.

  “Then let’s go up and check it out,” Eleanor’s mom said, and she took the first step into the ruins.

  They all followed after her, the narrowness of the passageways in places forcing them into single file. There were many sharp turns, and many doorways that opened into small chambers, and as Eleanor climbed higher into the labyrinth, she was able to look back down the hill, over the descending terraces, toward the ocean below.

  There were a few wrong turns and dead ends before they reached the upper wall of the Chinkana, having explored for nearly an h
our, but from there they continued along a second, upper path that brought them onto a plateau at the top of the island and continued along its length. The view of the lake from up here revealed a panorama of deep-blue water and hilly green shores.

  “What’s that up ahead?” Finn asked, squinting.

  They followed the path and arrived at an ancient altar, which was made of a solid slab of stone longer than Eleanor was tall, and about two feet thick, surrounded by a circle of twelve square, hewn boulders, each a few feet tall.

  “It’s like a small Stonehenge or something,” Julian said.

  “It does have a cermonial quality,” Dr. Powers said.

  Eleanor’s mom pointed at a large rock formation nearby, the only other prominent feature on the hilltop. “That must be the sacred rock Amaru was talking about. The Titikala.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything particularly singular about it to Eleanor. It was about the height and size of a modest house, made of rough brown rock with yellowish streaks. She supposed if she really used her imagination, it resembled a crouching cougar, with folds and crevices that suggested a body with legs tucked under it. But she would have probably walked right by without noticing it had Amaru not mentioned it to them. But something had made the Inca worship this place. Something had made them center that myth here.

  Eleanor walked toward the Titikala, studying its contours, searching for openings. There was a prominent overhang that created a shadow beneath it, but this hid nothing but an alcove that led nowhere. The rest of the group joined Eleanor in circling the stone, but no one found anything. No cave or tunnel or fissure through which a man could ever have emerged. Dr. Powers pointed out that caves weren’t even common to that kind of rock and geology.

  “What did you expect?” Luke asked. “This place has been overrun by tourists for decades. Don’t you think they would have found something by now?”

  Eleanor argued inside herself against a mounting disappointment. No one else said anything, but they all glared at the ground, and Eleanor could sense their frustration. It was hard for her not to feel some of that directed at her.

  “What now?” Betty asked.

  “Now,” Dr. Powers said, “it’s been over an hour. We should head back to meet Amaru soon.”

  But Eleanor didn’t want to leave. They had come all this way, and she’d been so sure they would find a Concentrator here. She realized now that had been stupid and naive. In fact, she wondered if it was possible that von Albrecht had been wrong about the lines. . . .

  “We’ll just have to come back tomorrow,” Eleanor’s mom said. “Make a thorough survey of the area.”

  “What for?” Betty asked. “Look around. You really think there’s a big alien tree just hiding somewhere?”

  “I think we haven’t really searched yet,” Eleanor’s mom said. “And I’m not giving up.”

  “I never thought it would be that easy,” Luke said.

  “Me neither,” Eleanor said. “The Concentrator is here. Somewhere.”

  “Regardless,” Dr. Powers said, “we should return to the boat. Unless we want to spend the night on this island.”

  Eleanor reluctantly agreed, and moments later they turned down the hill the way they had come, back through the Chinkana, the slanted orange light of the setting sun casting shadows and creating false tunnels and portals in the maze. It seemed a place that could shift and change, depending on the time of day one visited it, and it took them some time to navigate through it.

  The descent was certainly easier on the lungs than climbing up had been, and they made it back down to the dock more quickly than they had left it.

  Amaru was waiting on the pier for them next to his boat and waved to them as they approached. “Did you enjoy the ruins?”

  “Very much,” Eleanor’s mom said. “I think we’d like to come back tomorrow.”

  “There are others places I could take you to,” Amaru said. “On the southern part of the island.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t think we’re done with this side,” her mom said, smiling.

  “It’s up to you.” Amaru smiled back.

  They boarded the boat, and their guide pulled away from the dock and turned them in the same direction they had been traveling before, continuing along the length of the island for a short distance, and then pulling farther out into the body of the lake.

  Several miles of waves rolled beneath them as they made their way toward the distant, mountainous shore. The sun dipped lower and lower to the right of the boat, and before long they reached the end of the Isla del Sol on their left, where it stretched toward a mainland peninsula, forming a narrow strait. From there, Amaru aimed them toward a little hill that seemed to jut up from the lake in front of the range that lined the shore. But as they approached the hill, Eleanor realized it was connected to the shore by a low flatland, and as they circled around, she saw the lights of Copacabana situated there, bright in the dusk light.

  “I called a hotel for you,” Amaru said. “A good place. They will feed you, too.”

  “Thank you,” said Eleanor’s mom.

  They reached the town’s many piers, and Amaru chose a dock lit by strings of bulbs running overhead from post to post. He then guided them from the boat through the streets of Copacabana, which were even more festive than Puno’s had been, although the town seemed much smaller. Vendors sold foods that smelled very similar to what they’d already eaten that day, and bands performed music with guitars, drums, and large pan flutes. As twilight turned to dusk, the air quickly grew quite cold, and Eleanor shivered.

  “The hotel is just up this way,” Amaru said before rounding a corner.

  Dr. Powers was close behind him but stopped immediately and retreated, arms outstretched to back everyone else up with him.

  “Simon, what is it?” Eleanor’s mom asked.

  “G.E.T.,” Dr. Powers whispered. “They have a van on the street. Up ahead.”

  “What?” her mom said.

  Luke crept forward and peered around the building. “How can you tell? It’s not marked.”

  “I can tell,” Dr. Powers said. “It’s the same model of vehicle they used in Venezuela, back when I was doing some work there.”

  Amaru returned then, clearly looking for them, eyebrows low and close together. “Is everything okay?”

  “Fine,” Dr. Powers said.

  “Good,” Amaru said. “Then shall we continue?”

  No one moved.

  “Is there a problem?” Amaru asked.

  “I noticed, um, a van,” Dr. Powers said. “I believe it belongs to the G.E.T.”

  Amaru looked over his shoulder and up the street. “Ah, yes. I see it.”

  “The thing is,” Dr. Powers said, “I used to work for them, and . . . we didn’t part on the best terms. Bad memories, to be honest.”

  “I see,” Amaru said. “And you want to avoid them?”

  “It’s a bit embarrassing,” Dr. Powers said.

  “Not at all,” Amaru said. “We’ll go around.” And he led them across the road and down a different street. After taking a right turn, and walking a few more blocks, and then taking another couple of turns, they arrived at the Hotel Imperial.

  The building was brightly lit and inviting, painted the color of daffodils in photos Eleanor had seen. Amaru walked them in through the front door, where they were greeted in the lobby by a tall, elegant woman wearing an outfit that had clearly been inspired by the traditional clothing Eleanor had already seen other women wearing: a long flowing skirt, a very nice sweater, and a silken shawl.

  “Hola, hola,” she said. “Amaru tell me you were coming. I am Isabela, and I welcome you to my hotel.” She bowed her head.

  “Thank you,” Dr. Powers said.

  “You have a nice day on the lake, sí?” she said. “You go to the Isla del Sol?”

  “Yes,” Eleanor’s mom said. “A lovely day.” But there was a weary impatience to her voice, and Eleanor knew she was still thinking about the
G.E.T. van. Eleanor was, too.

  “I took them to the Chinkana,” Amaru said.

  “Bueno,” Isabela said. “But I see you are tired. Three rooms, sí? Come, I will show you.”

  “I’ll leave you now,” Amaru said. “What time in the morning?”

  “Early,” Dr. Powers said. “Seven?”

  Julian groaned.

  “Very good,” Amaru said, and with a nod and a smile he departed.

  “He is a nice man,” Isabela said after he had left. “His wife is very beautiful. And his hijo, oh!” She clapped her hands together at her chest. “Muy lindo. Come, we go to your rooms.”

  They followed her and crossed a floor of red tiles, the walls around them stuccoed and painted white, framed by exposed timbers of rich, dark wood, the corners filled with plants in terra-cotta pots. Isabela led them up a flight of flagstone steps to the second floor, and there she opened up the first door on the right in a long hallway of doors.

  “Who want this room?”

  Eleanor and her mom peered through the doorway. The room appeared comfortable, if a bit small. A thick woven rug covered a smooth and polished hardwood floor. The cream-colored bedding looked clean and fluffy, and even though the leather sofa was old, it seemed ready to welcome Eleanor like a broken-in baseball glove.

  “Eleanor and I can share a room,” her mom said. “And I assume you’ll have your boys with you, Simon. . . .” She looked at Betty.

  “Not to worry,” Betty said. “Luke and I can share. His charms have long since worn off.”

  “So you keep saying,” Luke said. “But I’m fine with the couch.”

  Eleanor’s mom turned back to Isabela. “My daughter and I will take this one.”

  “Good, good,” Isabela said. “The others are down here.”

  Eleanor stood in the doorway of her room and watched to see where the others ended up. Isabela gave the next room down on the left to Dr. Powers, Finn, and Julian, while Luke and Betty ended up three doors beyond them to the right.

  “Will you come down for dinner soon?” Isabela asked as she returned to the stairway.

  “Yes, thank you,” Eleanor’s mom said.