by Chris Fox
“Attention,” Jordan boomed. The troops fell into line. Jordan glanced at the approaching vessels. They were moving more quickly than he’d have thought possible. “In a few moments Sobek and his delegation will arrive. We will be courteous, but we will not grovel. This is our city, and we’ll defend it with our lives. Show these reptiles the power of the wolf.”
He delivered a tight salute, and the men returned it. They gave a ragged cheer. “Ark Lord!”
Jordan turned back to the boats, waiting patiently as they got closer. They were moving far more quickly than any vessel that size should have been capable of. He couldn’t see any obvious sign of an engine or propeller, so Jordan had no idea what was powering them, until the ships reached the dock. When they were close, Jordan could feel a deep thrum of power coming from each. Those things were powered through shaping.
Of course, Ka-Dun. Such was common during the Mother’s age. Sobek was one of the pioneers of such shaping. Long before the slipsail mankind plied the waves with wooden vessels.
The boat slowed as it closed with the dock; the last five feet took nearly a full minute. Then the boat finally stopped, and a five-foot-thick rope was tossed over the stern. The dock workers rushed to affix the rope. Once they had, a ramp extended to the dock.
A trio of bipedal crocodiles, more reptile than man, descended. Their skin was scaly and tough, their eyes black and unreadable. Their mouths were full of fangs, and Jordan could see bits of flesh still stuck between them. Not the most hygienic crowd. That was made even more obvious by the stench when they approached.
“Who leads these mongrels?” Sobek boomed in a deep, discordant voice. His tail slapped the deck with a tremendous thud, and several of the champions jumped. Most kept their composure though, making Jordan proud.
“You already know I’m in charge,” Jordan said. He walked calmly to Sobek, ignoring the pair of crocodile warriors flanking him. Up close, the god smelled like rotting fish, bits of which were caught between his numerous teeth. “You can feel the access key, feel the strength I’m drawing from the Ark. Are you here to posture, Sobek? Isis said you were a petty god. Was she right?”
Sobek balled his scaly fists, stalking closer. He glared down at Jordan, who’d yet to shift to warform. The crocodile gave a low, deep growl. “You do not fear me as the other fools I’ve suffered. You carry yourself like an Ark Lord, and I can sense potential within you. Yet you are a young god, barely old enough to be off Isis’s teat. Why don’t you run and fetch her, so that she and I might discuss matters too important for your ignorant little mind.”
“I think you misunderstand the situation, Sobek,” Jordan retorted. “You are beneath Isis’s notice, and you know that. She has far greater concerns, and doesn’t have time for your posturing. She sent me, because you won’t shut up about the fact that she’s not come to see you personally.” Then he shifted to warform, suddenly standing eye to snout with the crocodile god. “My ignorant little mind is what you’re going to have to deal with—which shouldn’t be that challenging since all you’re here to do is drop off a boat full of rock.”
Sobek’s expression grew, if possible, more unreadable. He studied Jordan with those lifeless black eyes, silent for long moments. “The accord between Isis and I has reached its zenith. In five more years, it ends. Either we strike a new bargain, or we go to war. Isis must know this. Does she value our accord so little that she doesn’t deem me worthy of her time? Is that what you are saying, little wolf? Such disrespect isn’t like her. She was always one for decorum, even with her enemies.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Jordan said. “She trusts you to keep your end of the accord. When it ends, then she will consider speaking to you. In the meantime, you deal with me.” He crossed his arms, eyeing Sobek with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “She has other enemies, enemies you’re well aware of. They take precedence.”
Sobek was silent again. He worked his jaws, tonguing loose a piece of rotting meat.
“Do you know what I believe? Isis is dead, and you’re covering. You are fumbling for excuses, because you know that our agreement died with her. This is all a ruse—one I refuse to entertain any longer.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m lying in an attempt to stall for time.” Jordan gave Sobek the most lupine grin he could muster. “You could always break the accord and find out. You might be able to best me in a fight, though given that I’m an Ark Lord and you’re an errand boy for one…I guess we’d have to see. But let’s just say you beat me, Sobek. Do you want to deal with Isis when she hears you killed me? Especially knowing that she’s working with Osiris and Ra.”
Sobek blinked. It was a small thing, but still the most human reaction he’d shown. He looked…uncertain. “Isis is working with Osiris…and Ra?”
“That’s right. They set aside their differences, because they are aware of a common threat. If they’ve been scarce these last years, it’s with good reason. Never let your enemy see you coming.”
It might even be the truth. If Leti were correct, Isis might be alive and in hiding. So it wasn’t a lie, precisely. That made it easier to sell.
“I remain dubious, little wolf god, but I will return to my master on the continent you call Australia. I will tell him of Isis’s refusal to meet me, and we shall see what comes of it.” Sobek turned without a word and headed back onto the boat. His minions followed, and the ramp ascended after them.
Jordan watched him go, giving a heavy sigh.
“Do you think he bought it?” Rodrigo asked. Rain pelted the brim of his ball cap.
“Nope. He knows we’re bluffing, and soon his master will know it too. I don’t know how they’ll respond, but we’ll save that for another day. At least we bought ourselves another few months.”
Chapter 33- Research
Trevor was painfully aware of hostility from their hosts, a pair of champions who ran a little church on the north side of Cajamarca. They all but worshipped Isis—and thus Jordan—but they knew who the ancient enemy was. That ancient enemy was the deathless. From the sly glances to the sarcastic quips, the little old couple never failed to let Trevor know he would be purified in flame eventually. They maintained that Jordan was only keeping him alive to torture.
He steeled himself as he trotted down the stairs toward the door, knowing that Marguerite would be in the kitchen to the right. Sure enough he heard the chop, chop, chop of her cutting onions for that morning’s chorizo.
“Good morning, unclean one,” she called in her gravelly voice. She peered at him from under a mop of unruly white hair. “I see you have avoided judgment for another day. Do not trouble yourself, it will be along soon enough. I do not know why the Ark Lord considers you an ally, but the moment that ends my claws will find your throat. Would you like some breakfast?”
She held up a plate of chorizo, and it smelled heavenly. Unfortunately, Trevor lacked the right organs to digest normal food. She knew that of course, which was why she baited him with breakfast every day.
“Good morning, Marguerite. Have you seen Anput yet this morning?” Trevor gave her a friendly smile, knowing she hated that.
“The dead whore? Yes, she was up early. She left for the library.” Marguerite had already turned back to breakfast, so Trevor slipped past her and through the door. He pulled on his ball cap, and added a pair of large black sunglasses. If he kept his mouth closed, most people assumed he was human until they got within arm’s length.
He hurried up the walk and onto the road leading toward the library. This part of town wasn’t very populated, with just a few families living in some of the larger houses in the residential section bordering the church. A woman gardening in her front yard glanced up at him, reaching suspiciously for the pistol belted around her waist. Trevor pulled his jacket tighter, and hurried on.
It only took a few minutes to reach the library, which was thankfully in good repair. Many of the buildings around it weren’t, with broken windows and crumbling roofs. It was
amazing how much the place had deteriorated in the last five years. Lack of maintenance was compounding, and most of the buildings looked like the wasteland from Fallout.
Trevor ducked through the double doors, which had been propped open on either side by heavily loaded book carts. The interior was well-lit with natural light, the sun streaming through skylights above. A few people prowled the stacks of books, and an elderly man walked past clutching a book on automotive repair.
Anput sat at a table bathed by one of the skylights. She had three piles of books in front of her, and was scrawling furiously in a notebook. A pair of glasses was perched on her nose, which drew a quiet chuckle from Trevor. Vampires, especially ancient ones, didn’t need glasses. The only reason to wear those was for effect. It fit the image Anput wanted to play, the quiet, scholarly woman. Not a millennia-old vampire warrior goddess who part-timed as a succubus.
“Morning.” Trevor slid into the chair across from Anput, picking up the closest book. “Genetic Justice?”
“It’s about DNA banks,” Anput explained absently, still scribbling in her notebook. “Most of the book is useless drivel about the inept legal systems you moderns seem to love so much. But it did mention several genetic repositories, places like the Ark where your people were storing helix maps—sorry, what you’d call genomes.”
“I didn’t realize you were a geneticist.” Trevor set the book down, genuinely surprised.
“I wasn’t when we last met. I found and devoured a nascent deathless who’d been an accomplished geneticist. From there I’ve studied the topic as often as I get the chance.” Anput set her pen down, and turned to look at Trevor. She gave him the sultriest smile any man had ever seen, and a thrill ran through him. “The look I just gave you? The fact that I can make you feel lust even though deathless can’t procreate? I understand how it works, how Osiris shaped Isis’s original virus into the one I was given. We used different words, but both he and Isis were using genetics. They understood DNA and the genome, and how to modify them. They spent millennia practicing those abilities, and learning exactly how life worked.”
“And you want to learn to do the same thing?”
“I already have. I’ve studied my own virus and the deathless virus very closely. I’ve even learned how the grey men shaped David and the rest of Project Solaris. The only one I’m not familiar with yet is the werewolf virus, but given where we are I’m hoping to rectify that.” Anput took off her glasses and set them on her notebook. “We can discuss my theories later, though. You and I are supposed to be finding this lost city. El Dorado, I think your people call it.”
“We don’t have much to go on.” Trevor leaned back in his chair. “My dad was really into gold panning when I was growing up. He loved the idea of El Dorado, and he even talked about coming to Brazil to hunt for it. It never happened, but I grew up with stories about the lost city. The truth is, no one has ever found anything. There’s nothing to substantiate there ever having been a city out there.”
“That tells us more than you might think,” Anput countered. She picked up her glasses, tapping her lips with them. “If the Proto Ark is out there it would have to be absolutely massive. The fact that no one has ever found it suggests that someone or something is actively hiding it. Otherwise satellites would have found it.”
“Point taken,” Trevor allowed. He unrolled a map of the Amazon that he and Anput had been looking at the day before. “A Netflix documentary I watched said it might be somewhere up the Xingu branch of the Amazon River. I can’t remember the explorer’s name, but his last expedition ended here. He was never seen again, and most people assumed that the natives killed him. They were extremely warlike, and practiced cannibalism.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” Anput said. She replaced her glasses, flicking her hair over one shoulder with the grace of a panther. “It’s probably not so obvious to someone from this time, but I remember what Isis’s murderous little savages were like. It sounds like their descendants haven’t much changed. For the record, it was she who introduced the cannibalism in the first place. They were mimicking her champions.”
“They sound like a fun bunch. Did Isis know anything about this Proto Ark? Is that part of why she ended up making this continent her home?”
“I don’t know.” Anput frowned. Even that was pretty. “Ra’s court lost contact with Isis when she came to these lands. Most of our wars with her took place when she lived in the land you call California. If she knew of this Proto Ark, she never told any of us about it.”
“Well, apparently her champions have found and conquered the city, if Marguerite’s rantings are accurate. They consider it a holy place. She’s used racial memory before. Do you think that’s the case here?”
“Quite possibly. Are you familiar with the legend of the Caipora?”
The sudden shift in topic caught Trevor off guard. “No.” He shook his head. “What does that have to do with racial memory?”
“Just that Isis’s tampering went far beyond memory. During the previous age this jungle was guarded by spirits called the Caipora. They were part of the reason my people only rarely tried to invade this continent.” Anput pulled her knees up to her chest. “The Caipora are small, hairy, and mischievous. I believe they were shaped from the local populace. They were impossible to catch, and excelled at illusion. They were one of Isis’s more inventive experiments.”
“They sound like nasty little bastards.” Trevor said. “I’m betting they died out. In the four decades preceding the first CME, the Amazon lost over 20% of its trees. In all that destruction someone with a cell phone camera would have seen a spirit guardian. No one ever reported one.”
“That’s because the gene that activated the Caipora went dormant.” Anput reached for the map. “The Caipora have returned, and they’re found in these areas, along the rivers that were most heavily traveled by the local tribes. They would have passed for normal humans, probably even interbreeding. They needed the energy from the sun in order to change, and now that the energy is back they’ve begun to emerge. The same has been true with dozens of other species all over the world. I’ve documented several myself.”
“Wow.” Trevor slumped into his chair under the weight of the implications. “I can see why you became a geneticist. In a lot of ways Isis was a literal goddess. That genetic manipulation was the biggest part of her power.”
“It’s a power you share, theoretically. You are an Ark Lord, Trevor. You can shape life just as she did, provided we can get you access to your Ark.”
“We may not need to,” Trevor replied. He leaned over the map, scanning the massive green jungle labeled Amazon. “If we can find the Proto Ark, there’s every likelihood we’ll be able to use that to do exactly the same thing.”
“Suddenly all my work doesn’t seem so theoretical,” Anput said. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I have a lot of research to do before we depart. I need to make sure I bring the right books. What if I could modify our virus at the Proto Ark? Think of it. We could become anything we wanted, manifest any trait we desire.”
“It’s tempting,” Trevor agreed, and meant it. “But if we’re going to get there, we need to buckle down and find the place first. Let’s see what we can come up with before Jordan returns.”
Chapter 34- Be Nice to Elia
Jordan was already having a bad day, and he knew it was about to get worse. He stepped from the Jeep, closing the driver side door and walking to the Ark’s front entrance.
Leti exited from the other side of the vehicle, falling into step next to him. He could feel her hesitation; she didn’t want to do this either. She’d brushed her long dark hair into a simple braid, but otherwise looked just as she had when he’d first met her in the Ark.
“I notice you’re wearing the same clothing you usually do,” he said. “What does the white symbolize?”
“I must approach as a supplicant, and the white symbolizes both purity and humility.” She paused
in front of him, adjusting his hastily assembled dress uniform. The stylized black Ark on his shoulder looked right there. “You, on the other hand, they must see differently. Not only as a warrior, but also as a leader. As the men in Lima and Cajamarca now see you. This is the Jordan they must come to know—a true Ark Lord, not a bully or dictator. Remember that South America is different from the United States. Many of us grew up under one dictator or another, and the corruption here was even more obvious than your own country. Leaders are tyrants and not to be trusted. You need to overcome that, somehow.”
“I’m not off to a good start,” Jordan countered sourly. “Elia hates me, and I’ve probably given her cause.”
“She does, and her voice carries much weight.” Leti turned and hurried toward the wide tunnel leading into the Ark. It pulled Jordan back to the first time he’d seen it, right after the Ark had emerged from a thirteen millennia nap. “Are you paying attention? Come along, Ark Lord. And treat this place with a little more dignity, or we will never be allowed to seek El Dorado.”
“Can’t we just go without her blessing? You seem capable enough.” It was a half-hearted suggestion, and he followed her into the Ark.
“I cannot. I have never been to the city, nor am I allowed to yet,” Leti explained with an air of exasperation. “When my people have proven ourselves, we are invited to seek the city. We must find it unaided, and when we do we become an elder—like Elia. Since I have not been given permission to go, we must obtain the help of someone who has.”
They’d gone another hundred meters or so before they came to the first junction, one that Jordan knew well. From here, you could make it to dozens of locations in the Ark, including the light bridge and the central chamber. Last time he’d been here, this intersection had been empty. Now a pair of Ka-ken in human form stood impassively, each holding a golden dagger.