The Jaguar Trials

by Ruth Eastham

  “That’s a bat man!” said Yara, and Ben guessed she wasn’t referring to the DC Comics version. “You know. A symbol of the connection between the human and spirit worlds?”

  “The shaman was dressed as a bat when I met him,” said Ben. “He told me my dad had passed into the spirit world. If I can free the unquiet spirits, then they might let him come back to our world.”

  Ben turned the bat over. On the back was an inlaid pattern, a simple design of three lines of gold merging into one, and he was reminded of a devil’s trident.

  “The clue to the next trial,” said Rafael. He stared a while, then scribbled a tick list on a page of his green notebook. “Drowned ghosts – done. Hanging shroud – done.”

  “Next it is the Trial of the Sapphire Streak,” said Yara. “But what can this clue mean?”

  Ben put the bat in the pouch, nestled together with the amber and jade spheres. He looked at the way the bat sent a sheen of gold light through them; then he pulled the drawstrings, sealing all three tightly inside. “Whatever it means,” he said, putting the pouch away, “that’s where we’re heading next.”

  “It’s remarkable, Ben.” Professor Erskine turned the gold bat over in his hand. “The most exquisite example of a South American artefact I have ever seen. Excellent work! Now we need to work out what the clue means.”

  He handed it back, and Ben ran his fingers over the trident pattern engraved on the back.

  “We’ve got to keep all this deadly secret!” whispered Rafael. “If the people who caused the boat accident find out about this…” He gazed round their camp. “Is it really only you and Luis who’re left in the research team?”

  The professor sipped from his tin mug of tea. “Yes … unfortunately, my local men have decided to leave.”

  Yara scowled. “Our chief thinks he knows better than my grandfather!”

  “I would much rather have had the cooperation of your people,” Professor Erskine told her sadly. “It is most unusual for a tribe to go against their shaman.” He took out his pipe and pressed some tobacco into it. “But listen, Yara. If you want to go home, I’m sure that the boys here will understand.”

  Ben nodded at Yara. She was already in big trouble for helping him, and he wouldn’t want to make things worse. But he was relieved when he saw her shake her head.

  “My grandfather wanted me to help Ben,” she said firmly. “So that is what I shall do!”

  “Good!” said the professor. “Now, the question is what does the engraving on the bat mean? Of course logically it should lead us to the location of the next trial.”

  Rafael pressed his green notebook under the professor’s nose. “Might these hieroglyphs help?” he asked. “I copied them from the wall where the bats were.”

  The professor put the book on a folding table and bent over it. “He who wears the mask,” he translated, “wears the power of El Dorado. How fascinating.” He was quiet for a few moments, as if drinking in the words.

  He who wears the mask, wears the power of El Dorado. The words sent a strange shiver down Ben’s back.

  “No idea what that means,” Professor Erskine said. “And not sure it helps us with where to go next.” He took out his pipe and lit it. “And one would think it has to be a particular feature of the landscape that won’t have changed much in the hundreds of years since the Ancients first created the clues.”

  “So what kind of place?” Ben asked. “Mountains?”

  “Could be.”

  “You can get some very old trees.”

  “Rivers?”

  “They’re always changing their shape,” said Rafael.

  “Not necessarily,” said Yara. “I mean, usually they change shape quite fast, but it depends on the type of land they flow over.”

  The professor nodded, puffing on his pipe.

  An idea was coming to Ben; he felt his breath speed up. And there was something else he couldn’t ignore. Something that seemed to link all the trials so far.

  Water.

  The rapids, the bat-cave falls – was that just coincidence?

  “I think the engraving could be a river,” he told them.

  He remembered an area he’d flown over with his dad when they’d first arrived. There had been this one place – he’d taken a video of the aerial view – and he remembered his dad had asked the pilot to circle over it again, it had been so spectacular.

  It was a spot where three rivers joined. And each of the three rivers had been a different colour – nothing like the usual murky green-brown.

  “The rivers were gold,” he told the others. “Yellow gold, orange gold, red gold! Dad said it was to do with the bedrock the water flows over.”

  Yara was on her feet. “I have heard of that place! It is known as the Place of the Woven Water. It is an area rich in hunting, but hard to reach. Quite far from here.” She clasped her hands together. “That really could be the place, Ben!”

  ‘I expect it will be very dangerous to get there,’ said Rafael. ‘But it sounds worth the journey!’

  Ben could sense Erskine’s excitement. “Got a map in here somewhere.” He pulled over a bulging rucksack as though it weighed nothing and took out a plastic tube, from which he drew a large map. Rafael helped him unroll it across the table. The professor studied the map a while, then tapped a spot with a satisfied smile. “Here!”

  “Can we set off now?” asked Ben eagerly.

  “We leave immediately!” agreed the professor. He lowered his voice. “But let’s be vigilant, my soldiers of fortune,” he said.

  “Yes!” agreed Rafael. “Whoever laid that metal wire across the river will be tracking our every move!”

  Ben exchanged uneasy glances with Yara, as Rafael stared into the surrounding forest as if they might be ambushed at any moment.

  “I have a boat moored near Espírito,” the professor continued. “Did I mention that? The entire route overland will take too long. So it’s boat first, then a trek. We’ll have to all help with carrying supplies, now we’ve lost the other men. Luis?”

  Luis nodded, whistling a classical tune as he began to disassemble the tents.

  Professor Erskine gave a little laugh, and clasped Ben on the shoulder. “My dear soldiers of fortune. Great adventures lie ahead of us!”

  It was Ben’s first time on a boat since the crash.

  He thought he’d be OK, but as the Professor’s wide aluminium boat reached the stretch of water he recognized from the accident, memories of it came flooding back.

  That was tough.

  Luis revved the outboard motor, powering them down the safe left fork, and the boat ate up the miles along the river’s wide meanders.

  They took one branch, and then another, the professor keeping an eye expertly on the map, Luis steering with silent precision, Rafael keeping watch at the stern of the boat to check for signs of anyone following them.

  Afternoon turned into evening; evening into night. They discussed El Dorado; Yara caught them fish; Rafael kept a careful record of their journey in his notebook. Ben beat them both at chess, then the professor beat him. Mostly they stretched out under the awning of the boat, just trying to keep cool. They passed a few trading posts; filled up on supplies and news; but Ben was always glad when they were on their way again.

  Find El Dorado and find your father. The shaman’s words never left Ben’s thoughts. How would finding the lost city free the unquiet spirits? he asked himself. But the question remained unanswered.

  One night passed, and then another. The trading posts petered out to nothing. The forest stood thick and full of shadows along the riverbanks.

  At one point, Ben was sure he caught a glimpse of the black jaguar in the undergrowth, its green and orange eyes staring at him across the water. From that moment on he had an unnerving sense of time running out that he couldn’t shake. It hung over him, heavy like the humidity and heat.

  Follow the flying gold by moonlight – those were the words the shaman had used; then he woul
d have only until the next nightfall to finish the trials. What had he meant by flying gold? Nobody had been able to shed any light on it. It was unsettling, not knowing. An unseen clock was ticking, but he had no idea how long he had left.

  And could someone be following them – someone also on the trail of El Dorado?

  “Are we there yet?” puffed Rafael at regular intervals, fanning himself with a sunhat. “How much further?”

  But at last, late on the morning of the third day, Ben heard Luis cut the engine, drawing the boat up on a gravel shore, and the professor jumped off and landed lightly on the bank. “We walk from here. We’re only five or six hours away! Luis, you clear the way, man.”

  Luis pulled an enormous rucksack on to his back, picked up a machete and started to cut a trail, whistling as he went.

  “There’s your bag, Yara. Pack for you, Rafael. And Ben.” The professor lifted a rucksack off the ground for him with one hand. Ben sagged under the weight, then fiddled with the straps to try and get it comfortable.

  “Professor Erskine is old,” whispered Rafael to Ben. “But he’s a lot stronger than you.”

  They started the trek, following the trail Luis cut for them. None of them spoke much. Ben concentrated on walking in the heat, getting used to his bag and getting the pace of the steps right. The forest was a sauna; the insects vicious. The professor allowed them a five-minute rest each hour, no more.

  “It’s like being in the army!” wheezed Rafael as they sat on logs sipping water from canteens. “Why does the professor have to be so bossy?”

  Ben watched the Professor talking quietly to Luis. “He really knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?”

  “He knows a lot about the forest,” said Yara. “He has been coming here since he was a young man. His story is a strange one.”

  Ben sat up a little. “What do you mean?”

  “Well.” Yara shifted closer and lowered her voice. “Many years ago, when he was only a small boy, people from my tribe found him wandering alone in the forest.”

  Rafael stopped drinking. “Really? What had happened to his parents?”

  “His parents were explorers,” Yara told him. “Rich people from England. Neither they nor the plane they were travelling in was ever found. Everyone assumed it had crashed somewhere, but nobody knows how he survived by himself for so many days.”

  Ben stared at her, letting the story sink in.

  “He had a bad fever when he was found,” Yara went on. “He kept repeating that he had met a man made of gold.” She raised her eyebrows at Ben. “And something about being led to safety by a black jaguar, with one eye gold and one eye green.”

  Ben felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. “Do you believe that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Rafael gave a low whistle. “Well, that explains why Professor Erskine believes the El Dorado prophecy so strongly.”

  “Some say he found the entrance to El Dorado,” said Yara. “Some say he is a holy man. My tribe looked after him for a while, then he was recalled to England. He returned as a young man and has been making trips here ever since – trying to find the way back.”

  “Luis is going ahead to make camp!” the professor called as his researcher disappeared into the forest. “Not far now!”

  They continued the trek, the trail snaking upwards. Ben couldn’t get the professor’s story out of his mind. Losing both his parents like that. Searching his whole life for the way back to El Dorado. That kind of thing would have driven other people crazy.

  Finally, after a long uphill slog, they reached an outcrop hemmed by bushes, and the view opened out. A refreshing breeze cooled Ben’s hot face as he looked at the amazing expanse of forest rising up hazy blue mountains, their jagged peaks lit by late afternoon sun. He wiped a sweaty hand across his face, looking for signs of a river. Somewhere nearby he could hear water: the Woven Water confluence? And there was a moist smell to the air. But the twisting bank of bushes was too thick to see through, and they had some serious spines on them.

  “Awesome!” exclaimed Yara. “What a panorama!” She slipped off her pack and came to join him.

  Rafael lay down, rucksack still attached, and gave a smiling groan.

  Across the plateau of rock, Ben saw two tents pitched, their guy ropes hammered with metal pegs into clefts. Assorted equipment was scattered around: some pots and pans, a coil of steel wire, water canteens, rope and a machete.

  “Luis not here?” the professor said. “Must be hunting food for us. Make yourselves at home, my soldiers of fortune, and I’ll go and find him. Sit tight and rest until I get back! The Woven Water confluence is only a short trek from here.”

  Ben heaved off his rucksack and flexed his aching back, and they sat, sipping water, waiting for the professor.

  Rafael wriggled out of his pack straps and sat up. He gazed at the vista. “But how can El Dorado exist?” he asked suddenly.

  Ben drummed his fingers on the rock. How long is Erskine going to be? “What?”

  “I know we’ve talked about this before, but with all the modern technology we have, I mean,” said Rafael. “Satellite images and mapping tools.”

  Ben stood up and started pacing around. How could any secret city in the middle of Brazil have stayed hidden all that time?

  Yara’s face creased into an frown. “If my grandfather says El Dorado exists, then it does! My grandfather never lies!”

  “I want it to exist!” Rafael said hurriedly. “Of course I do! It’s just difficult to understand why nobody’s found it yet.”

  “Only Ben can find it!” Yara shot back. “By passing the trials!”

  Ben strode over to the thorny bushes in the direction of the water. He pulled at the branches to try and find a way through, getting scratched by some vicious spines in the process. Rafael’s comment had shaken him. No El Dorado meant no Dad.

  The sun had dropped lower in the sky, turning the mountains the colour of fire. Purple shadows moved up their craggy slopes. It would be dark soon. A bird darted overhead, a type of kingfisher; Ben caught a glimpse of dazzling blue as it skimmed past. He looked about impatiently. “Where’s the Professor?”

  “Do you think something could have happened to him and Luis?” said Rafael. “If the metal-wire murderers followed us, they could pick us off one by one!”

  Ben felt a twinge of worry, but dismissed it. It was just Rafael being over-dramatic, wasn’t it? He got to his feet. “I’m going to find the gold rivers!” he said. “I can’t just sit about here!”

  “Wait for me!” said Yara.

  “Don’t leave me alone!” Rafael scrambled up.

  Ben followed the sound of the water across the plateau to the bank of thorny bushes. “Pass me that machete, Rafael, will you?” He slashed at the plants with the blade and picked his way over the wide expanse, stopping suddenly where a dodgy-looking platform jutted over the last half-metre.

  Immediately his agitated mood dissolved. Below him was an amazing sight: three crystal-clear rivers running gently over gold-coloured bedrock into a deep basin, spilling over into one single river.

  There were murmurs of amazement as Yara and Rafael drew up next to him, and Ben got out the bat and lifted the trident clue to the scene. “The colours match!” he exclaimed. “Look at that – pretty much exactly!” This has to be the place!

  “What’s that in the basin?” Yara pointed. “Can you see? In the very centre!”

  Ben strained forward. It looked like a hole, yes, a circular hole. And was there something engraved on the rock around it? The pattern was hard to make out, the water magnifying but distorting.

  He and Yara did a silly dance on the rock.

  “Now what?” asked Rafael with a frown, sucking his finger where a thorn had scratched it.

  Yep – what now? Ben scanned the sheer drop into the water and the surrounding landscape. That’s why they’d had to leave the river and trek up here. There’d been no other way to get to this confluence.
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br />   It dawned on Ben what he had to do.

  And there was only one possible place he could do it from – the thin platform of rock right in front of him.

  He rubbed at his arm. The jaguar marks were throbbing, but he tried to ignore the pain. The light was fading fast. Did he want to have to wait another twelve hours until it was light again? No way!

  Ben bent down and started untying the laces of his boots.

  “What are you doing?” Raffie cried in alarm.

  Ben unbuttoned his shirt. “I need to get down there.”

  Shadows moved across the forest as the sun was obscured by wisps of cloud. A movement caught his eye, in amongst the trees: a fleeting dark shape – another shadow? But then it was gone.

  “You’re going to jump? But it’s so high!” protested Raffie. “We can’t tell how deep the water is from here. You could break every bone in your body!”

  Ben pulled off his shirt and his socks and stretched out a bare foot to test the platform – prompting another volley of protests from Rafael.

  “Please think about this! That’s no way stable!”

  Raffie was right about that, Ben thought grimly. The surface rocked unnervingly, like an uneven paving stone, even when he pressed on it just the tiniest bit.

  “You should wait for the professor!” insisted Rafael. “Him and Luis will be back any minute!”

  But Ben was tired of waiting. He stepped up on to the platform and waited for the sickening wobble to subside.

  Yara’s face had gone very pale. “Good luck, Ben.”

  He dragged his eyes back to the water and moved into a dive position, feeling the whole platform move. Below him was the drop, the basin of water. If he stood there much longer he was going to lose his nerve.

  The Trial of the Sapphire Streak. Why “sapphire streak”? he wondered.

  “OK,” he murmured to himself, taking a set of long, steady breaths. His toes curled over the unstable lip of rock. “OK.” He tipped his arms forward, eyes locked on to the centre of the hole. He took a last look behind him at his friends, then a long, deep breath.