Downpour(III:1) East

Book III

Beyond the Sunrise

1. East

     “Your entire plan was just to walk East until you found the temple?” asked Jimmy incredulously. He had come out from behind the bar to sit at a table next to them and hear the story. “That’s completely idiotic.”

     “Idiotic though it may have been that’s what we did.” Said a voice from the bar entrance. The door swung shut, and a man stepped into the light. None of the men had noticed it except for Nick.

     “Hello old friend,” said Nick jovially to Lopsang. He had seen him come in, but had wanted to wait for the shock value. After their time together, Lopsang had learned how to make an entrance.

     Lopsang walked up to Nick and shook his hand, smiling at the group surrounding him at the table.

     Albert stumbled to his feet and slid over another stool for Lopsang to join them. “Long time Lopsang,” he said, still only forming half intelligible sentences. He hiccupped and fell back into his seat next to Nick.

     “Indeed it has been Albert. Looks like nothing has changed here though.”

     “Never does,” said Nick. “That’s why we keep coming back.” Jimmy had stood up to grab another glass.

     “Whisky,” said Lopsang. “Thanks Jimmy.” He sat down in the chair Albert had pulled out for him. “You telling the story of the Land of the Dead again?” asked Lopsang, rolling his eyes as if it was all very boring.

     “Well I started by telling it to a pretty lady, but she left, and these folks stepped in.”

     Lopsang nodded as if this was exactly what he expected.

     Jimmy returned with a large glass, filled to the brim with whisky, and set it down in front of Lopsang.

     “Thanks again,” he said, taking a big gulp of the liquid. If it burned his throat, he did not show it. “Don’t let me keep you Nick, please, continue on. It’s a very entertaining story for those who haven’t lived it or heard it a thousand times over.” He winked at Nick and grinned.

     “Oh, well if you insist.”

     “You were headed east,” piped up Marcus once more, happy to help keep Nick on track.

     Nick much preferred travelling through the jungle with Lopsang to going it alone. The same dangers were present as always, but having someone to poke fun at them with made facing them all the better. In the hours since they had set off, they had seen no sign of the river, but Nick wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t even sure what part of the Amazon they were in anymore, or if they were even still in the same jungle for that matter. As far as they knew, the temple could have spit them out anywhere.

     Lopsang seemed content to follow Nick and did not complain. Every once in a while, he would stop to examine a piece of wood or a clump of bushes, hoping that he had found some clue as to where they were going, but each time, it was nothing. True to his nature, he never once acted discouraged, and continued unabated.

     As the sun set low, Nick could feel the jungle sapping all the good vibes he had accumulated in El Dorado. The heat was oppressive, and sweat stung his eyes. The fresh enthusiasm he had acquired was all but abated, and by the time dark fell, he was downright miserable. “We need to find a place to camp for the night. It’s not worth continuing on in the dark.”

     The sun glowed red in the jungle behind them, streaming through holes in the canopy. Lopsang acquiesced to stopping, looking as though he too were fatigued. They scouted around and found a clearing. The ground was uneven, in large mounds, but the trees did not grow on top of it, and it was their best choice for pitching a tent. The jungle elsewhere was far too thick.

     Nick set down his bag and unpacked the supplies the vampire had given them. It seemed that even in the city of gold, there were military rations. Nick grimaced and wished he had brought more of the delicious food from the inn with him. It would have no doubt spoiled, but the fantasy made his mouth water with hunger.

     While Lopsang pitched the tent, Nick pulled out the Book of the Dead once more and continued reading. It was written that to enter the Aztec Land of the Dead, one had to undergo a series of trials, ranging from mountains that crashed together as they were traversed, to windy planes, where sharp knives blew, rending flesh from bone. None of them sounded very pleasant, and counted himself lucky that in theory they would be able to avoid them.

     The book said that warriors could avoid the path of the trials as they had passed them in life. Rather than queuing up with all the other sods who died of disease or age, they rode into the sunset, taking a different path. After entering the Warrior’s Temple of the Dead, they were escorted by a psychopomp past the trials and to their eternal rest.

     Nick had read a similar story in various other cultures. Psychopomps, or guides to the dead, were a common theme among myths about the afterlife. In ancient Rome, it had been the ferryman, in America it was the skeletal reaper. In all cases, the dead had to be escorted by someone to find their way or they would become lost.

     Xolotl was the Aztec version of the ferryman. Often depicted as half-dog, half-human, he was known as both a god, and a pestilence. There were several panels in the book that showed him guiding groups of his monstrosities to wreak havoc upon villages that did not worship the gods  of the dead correctly, as well as others where he guided the sun on its journey through the underworld. Like most of the deities Nick had met, it seemed that Xolotl was of two minds, permanently at odds with one another. If we get in to the temple, we’re likely going to have to contend with him, thought Nick, closing the book. He would have checked the Henry’s hand-written account, but was sure that it would bear the same sarcastic description as El Dorado, as Henry had never put much stock in any sort of life after death.

     Lopsang had started a small fire, and a dull green tent was erected on top of one of the mounds. “If it rains, at least water rolls downhill.” He pointed to the trough beneath mounds.

     “It’s the little things,” said Nick, and walked over to sit next to the fire. They ate their rations in relative silence, both in deep thought, until Nick asked, “What do you know about psychopomps Lopsang?” Being of another world, Nick thought Lopsang might know more.

     “Despicable creatures who only work for a price,” he said, spitting on the ground. As if reading Nick’s mind, he said “I’ve been thinking about them as well. Every culture has one, and they’re not just going to let two members of the living walk right past them.”

     Nick thought back to the picture of the monstrosities terrorizing the living. “The Aztec one looks mean too.”

     “Oh?” asked Lopsang, taking a sip from a canteen.

     “Yeah, book says it might be half dog, commander of a group of monstrosities.”

     “Great,” said Lopsang, with a sigh. “Well, I suppose we’ve been through worse.” He corrected his tone almost immediately, perhaps sensing Nick’s growing despair about the situation. As always, the odds had begun to seem insurmountable. “Can’t be worse than a realm known for eternal warfare and homicidal hybrids right?”

     Nick thought that it could be, but thought it better not to voice his opinion. “I suppose that’s true,” said Nick trying to sound hopeful. They passed the rest of their meal in silence, and when they had finished, crawled into the tent to sleep. Nick marveled at the sense of security he felt from the surrounding canvas walls. If anything came upon them it could shred through the tent like paper, but somehow, being hidden behind them made him feel so much safer.

     Soon the sounds of Lopsang snoring drowned out the jungle around them. Nick felt drowsy as well, and drifted into an uneasy sleep, his dreams pervaded by vicious dogs and other half-breed monstrosities. The next minute he awoke in a lake of fire, with demonic creatures laughing at him from a ledge high above. It did not end, until he was awoken abruptly by the sound of mournful trumpets echoing through the air.