"Some of us find rock art exciting, but most people would be bored."
"I heard you got in a fight with someone out there," another young woman said.
Jones slowed, but just for a moment. "Now where did you hear that?"
She laughed. "I didn't. I just made it up."
"Very funny," Jones said. "Excuse me."
What about the unicorn's horn? Salandra asked the question silently. But the professor heard it clearly. He stopped, turned, and peered at the faces around him. She stood severed feet behind the group and could see Jones's startled expression. But he didn't look past the students to where she stood.
"Something wrong?" one of them asked.
A couple of beats passed. "No, nothing's wrong. I have to go. My class is about to begin."
She knew then that he was not going to be easy. He would never believe her, not unless he saw things for himself.
Suddenly she was no longer on the campus. She was on Easter Island where she had soared as a falcon from a plateau on Roraima, eclipsing the distance in seconds. It was night, and Jones was walking along a beach. Water glistened under the moonlight and lapped at his feet, as he headed toward the distant glow of a camp fire where other people were gathered.
He glanced to one side as he heard the screech of a bird. Jones walked a few more paces, then stopped and looked around. He sensed her presence. He shrugged, moved on.
"Don't let Marcus Brody down," she said as Jones approached the fire. "That's all I ask."
The image abruptly shifted again. Now she was dreaming of herself and Maleiwa. He was tall and muscular, with chiseled features, a hawk nose, and dark, piercing eyes. His head, which in later years would he shaved, was covered by short-cropped hair. It was a time when they were students in Roraima. They stood at day's end near the edge of a tepui, looking out over the rugged landscape far below the plateau. Salandra nearly forgot that she was reliving a memory.
They were both outsiders born of another land, and that had brought them together. Maleiwa had been sent to Roraima because he showed a particular talent for legerdemain, and Roraima was the place to study the weirding arts. He was talking passionately about a particular aspect of their studies referred to as shadow-thaum, which concerned the manipulation of events and people. He was trying to convince her of the value of what he was doing. It was a subject that was considered outside the realm of practice, but one they were required to study nonetheless.
Supposedly, they were learning the detrimental effects created by those who had abused their powers and used them to control people. But Maleiwa was enthralled by those who had ruled through such means. He actually seemed to revel in how they had violated the first rule of conduct they were taught: Nothing by force.
"Don't you see the possibilities, Salandra, if we apply shadow-thaum to the exterior world?"
"That would upset the balance. It can't be allowed. You know that."
"I know that the events of our world are in sympathy with those of the outer. One reflects the other. What we do affects them. What they do affects us. There is balance."
"Maleiwa," she said patiently, "force only encounters resistance, and nothing is ultimately accomplished but further displays of force."
He laughed and told her that she sounded like one of their teachers. "You know your lessons well," he'd chided. "But I'm learning the true nature of power, and how to put it to one's own best use."
After that day at the edge of the tepui, they were never close again. She didn't trust Maleiwa's motives. When his education was completed, he returned to Wayua and rose in power so rapidly that she was almost certain he was practicing shadow-thaum.
The image of Maleiwa faded, but now Salandra's inner vision was flooded with a barrage of other memories of the Wayua leader. Salandra recognized she was dreaming, and when she did so, she willed away the images. She was a skilled dreamer, after all, and she could stop or change a dream at will.
But to her great consternation, she couldn't control the thoughts and images. They sped by rapidly, and they were somehow associated with a keen intensity of feeling that she didn't comprehend. She prodded and poked into the depths of the dream as only one with her abilities could do, and there she found something totally unexpected, and nearly beyond comprehension.
The dream-thoughts were not for her benefit; they were triggered by another being that had invaded her innermost thoughts. She reached out with her mind and touched the other. The contact was momentary, but the shock of it jolted her down to her very essence. Her heart nearly exploded from acute fright.
"Salandra!"
She was back in the maze, and Jones was rushing at her down a corridor, several of him racing down several corridors. They converged on her from all directions. She squeezed her eyes shut. They grabbed her and shook her, and she screamed. None of it was real.
"Salandra, it's okay. I'm here."
She opened her eyes. There he was, one Jones. "Is that you?"
"Of course it is. What happened?" He stepped back from her.
"This place. It's..." She rubbed her arms.
"I know... I know. It's enough to drive you nuts."
"It's not what it seems."
"What is it? That's what I'd like to know."
"It's alive. It's a being that thinks. I touched its mind. It's studying us. It wants to know what we were doing here."
Jones looked around. "Yeah? Well, I'd like to know that myself. And, listen, call me Indy. Okay?"
Indy. The name rolled through her mind like a round, polished stone. Indy. "We're in great danger unless we somehow appease this thing. We'll never find a way out."
"What does it want?"
"I don't know."
Then she caught a fleeting glimpse of something large as it crossed the passageway. "Indy, did you see that?"
"What?"
"That!" It stepped out into full view, and she felt a blast of heat so intense that she thought her skin would melt and her blood would evaporate. She nearly wilted under the onslaught. Then the heat vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
The creature looked as if it were a blend of a huge cat and a man. Its head was humanoid except for the large green cat eyes and fangs. The lower half of the body was that of a massive cat. The upper torso was human on the underside, but its back, arms, and paws were distinctively feline.
The cat-man moved closer. "Your dreams tell all."
"What do you want?" she asked.
"A favor. In return you can leave me."
"What?" she asked.
"Send this one called Maleiwa to me."
"How can I do that?"
"Find a way. There are many routes leading here."
"And if I don't succeed?"
"I will find you through your dreams and destroy you from the inside out."
"How do we get out of here?"
The creature didn't answer. Instead, it turned and walked through a wall as if the wall didn't exist.
"What in God's name was that thing?" Jones asked.
"An image projected by the mind of the maze." Salandra described what she had seen. She wasn't surprised when Jones said that he'd seen something else altogether.
"It looked like a gigantic frog with a human head," he explained. "Enormous black eyes, a wide, flat nose, and hardly any lips."
"I made it a promise, so we could get out of here," she said.
He laughed. "Yeah. So did I. I told the thing that I'd stick with you until you kept your promise. What did I get myself into, anyhow?"
Salandra didn't want to remain another second on the spot where the apparition, or whatever it was, had appeared. She started walking, as she told Jones what she had pledged to the creature. Neither of them thought about where they were going. They turned down a passageway without questioning their choice, and she wasn't sure which of them was selecting the route.
"If Maleiwa is anything like you've described, that doesn't sound like such an easy promise to keep."
"We'll do it. Someho
w."
They'd reached an intersection of three trails, and stopped. Jones pointed down one of the branches to a low, diamond-shaped opening. "What do you see down there?"
"A hole in the wall."
"So do I."
"Let's see where it goes."
They didn't rush for the hole, nor did they take their time. Both of them kept their gaze fixed on it, believing it would suddenly disappear if they looked away. Salandra knew that if the labyrinth was still playing games with them, she could do nothing to prevent it. Yet she reached deep inside herself, focused her intent on the hole, and willed it to remain in place.
Jones dropped down to one knee and peered into a dimly lit chamber. "It seems to lead outside of the maze."
The hole was barely large enough for Jones to squeeze through. Salandra quickly followed. Their eyes adjusted to the dim light. The earth smelled richer, and the air was more dense. She was certain that they were now just below the surface of the exterior world.
She glanced over her shoulder at the wall. "Look, Indy! The hole's gone."
"I don't want to know about it," Jones said, and didn't look back.
She touched the spot where they'd crawled through. It was as if the hole had never been there. Then she patted it as if it were a pet. "We're on our way."
15
Back in the Real World
Even though they were still underground, Indy sensed something was different. Oddly enough, he almost felt at home. Thick pillars of earth appeared to grow out of the ceiling and floor, creating a series of archways. They entered a larger chamber, where the light was somewhat brighter, and the walls were painted with a red-and-black rhomboid design. The diamond-shaped figures reminded Indy of the opening in the wall they'd passed through to get here.
"Look at this, Indy!"
Salandra was peering into a niche carved into the wall. It contained calcified bones, bones that looked human. Below the niche were rows of clay vessels, painted with the same red-and-black geometric design as the walls.
"We're inside an Indian funerary chamber. Offhand, I can't identify the culture."
"It's from your world," Salandra said as she loosened the top to her nalca pouch. Even though he was hungry and thirsty, she didn't offer him the pouch, and he didn't ask for it. Right now he was looking forward to eating real food. A beer or two sounded like a good idea, too.
They found another chamber, and more skeleton-filled niches and pottery. Indy was fascinated by what he saw, but more than anything he wanted to get outside. The next chamber was the brightest of all. They crossed the painted room to where three steps led upward. Indy's excitement, though, abruptly turned to wariness. The light was tinged green, as it had been in the maze.
He climbed the steps, hoping they didn't lead into another maze, or back into the same one. Something blocked his view at the top of the steps, and for a moment he expected to see another creature. But it was a bush. Or he hoped it was. He touched it; and it didn't change shape. It felt like a bush, and gave off a familiar acrid odor of plant life.
"Indy?" Salandra called.
"I'm going up."
He pushed his way through the thicket, which thoroughly blocked the entrance to the chambers, and squinted as the bright sunlight struck him full in the face. He warned Salandra, who was following close behind, to shield her eyes, then hurried out, anxious to see where he was.
They were on the crest of a mountain, with a view of green, rolling hills and tree-filled valleys. It looked more familiar than anything he'd seen for some time. He glanced up toward the blue sky and sun and he smiled. He had never been so glad to see a sunny day. He guessed it was midmorning. Back into the familiar cycle of time, he thought. He'd never realized how much he would miss it; he'd always taken day and night for granted. But never again. Then he spotted smoke curling up from a rooftop lower on the mountainside; smoke, a familiar symbol of home.
"Do you know where we are?" Salandra asked.
"Can't say I do. But let's go introduce ourselves to the natives and find out."
They climbed down from the ridge and made their way toward the smoke. Within an hour, they reached a field of neat rows of bushes covered with small dark red berries. Indy picked one of them, and smiled. "Coffee. Hey, maybe we're in Colombia," he said, laughing. But there was no way they could've traveled across the South American continent so quickly, even if he'd actually taken an underground route.
They soon came upon a modest wooden house with a thatched roof, and were met by the yelps of a couple of dogs. Compared to the dogs they'd already encountered, these two were nothing to be concerned about. The door opened as they neared the house, and an elderly man and woman stepped outside.
"Buenos dias," Indy said.
The man answered the greeting. At least Indy had guessed the right language. He explained that they'd been hiking in the mountains and had gotten lost, and could they direct him to the nearest town.
The old man eyed him warily. "Where did you start your walk?"
Not a good question. Indy feigned that he misunderstood him. He waved a hand toward the mountain. "We're from the States."
The farmer looked up at the mountain as if it would offer an explanation. Then he murmured something to his wife, who answered by saying they were foreigners, as if that explained everything.
The old man pointed down the mountain. "We are closest to the village of San Andres de Pisimbala."
The old woman smiled, touched Salandra's arm, then motioned a hand to her mouth. "Tiene hambre?"
"Si, claro," Salandra answered, adding that animals had gotten into their food last night, eaten everything, and destroyed their pack.
Clever, Indy thought as they headed inside, and wondered why Salandra spoke Spanish so well.
The old woman heated up a thick potato-and-chicken soup, which they ate with clumps of fresh-baked bread. It was followed by steaming cups of coffee with frothing milk on top. At the moment, Indy could think of nothing that compared to the satisfaction he felt from eating the simple meal.
By the time they finished, they'd learned that the closest city was Popayan, which meant they were in Colombia. There was no logical way Indy could explain how they'd gotten here, but he didn't care.
Once they got to Popayan, they could catch a train to the northern coast, probably Cartagena. Indy figured he had just enough money stashed in his boot, along with his passport, to make the trip. Once they were in Cartagena, he'd wire Brody for money for a boat trip to the States.
He could just imagine how Brody would react when he saw the telegram and realized that Indy was still alive. But maybe Brody wasn't back in New York yet. Indy hadn't been gone that long. That could be a problem. But he'd work something out.
"We better go," he said to Salandra. They thanked the couple, and Indy asked the old farmer about transportation to Popayan.
"You can get a ride from one of the farmers going to market, but it might take a couple of days. In March through June there are wagons every day with their coffee beans. But in September..." He shook his hand in a gesture indicating that it wasn't such a good time to catch a ride.
"September? But it's still June, isn't it?"
The farmer stared at Indy, then said something to his wife about crazy foreigners. "Today is the third day of September."
"He knew that," Salandra said, patting Indy on the shoulder. "He likes to joke." They all laughed and parted ways.
As they headed down the mountain to the village, Indy felt as if he'd been run over by a tank. "It's not really September, is it?"
"Time is different in the interior world," Salandra began. "You experienced an expansion of time. What seemed to occur in a matter of days actually took much longer."
"I didn't sleep enough to be gone that long," he grumbled. "It doesn't make sense."
"I know it's confusing. You see, you don't remember everything. You spent nearly three weeks on the Caleuche before we reached Pincoya. Then we were imprisoned for more than a
month before we escaped. It's hard to say how long we were in the between-world. But I'd say it was at least a week in the maze alone."
She had to be kidding. "You're right. I don't remember it that way."
"But it's true, and now you know."
"Why didn't you tell me the truth?" He was angry with her. "You let me believe I'd only been there a few days."
"No, I didn't," she said patiently. "I told you how we perceive time in the interior, but I didn't say anything about how you would perceive it," she continued. "I knew it would've only confused you even more than you were."
At least there was one advantage to the sudden shift in time, Indy thought as they continued walking toward the village. Brody would most certainly be back in New York by now. He wondered if the museum director was spreading the story that Indy had been abducted by a ghost ship. If that was the case, Indy's disappearance might soon rival that of Colonel Fawcett, the English explorer whom Indy had searched for in the Amazon.
"Sorry I lost my temper back there," he apologized.
"It's understandable," Salandra answered in a quiet voice.
"Where did you learn Spanish?" he asked. "You speak it like a native."
"I travel in your world often," she answered. "And I'm good with languages, like you."
He was still skeptical. "Why do you travel so much?"
"I am just one of a group who is dedicated to preserving the delicate balance," she answered. "It's part of my healing practice, you could say."
"You mean the balance of your world and this one?"
"My world and yours, and also the earth and the cosmos."
"Sounds like a big balancing job."
"It wouldn't be so big if there was more cooperation. There are too many like Maleiwa and your Hitler, who will rise further in power whether Maleiwa helps him or not."
"Don't associate him with me. You told me you were a private detective when we first met."
"I am that, too, thanks to Maleiwa, and you."
"How do you know that Hitler is such a threat?" Indy asked.
"The pattern is set. I can see it. It's just a matter of how it will be carried out, and how far he will be allowed to go."
Indiana Jones and the Interior World Page 12