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The Fountain of Death
- The Fountain of Death -
Diego Cruz was awakened in the middle of the pitch-black of those dark hours past midnight, and as he did awaken... he felt a sense of dread creeping upon him. Instinctively, he reached for the long sword that lay nearby, on the large sack full of supplies that the native bearers had brought and laid in his tent with much care. He nearly tripped on the animal skins that covered the ground, but caught himself so as to not fall. It had been raining most of the previous day, and camp had been set up to wait out the rain... but this had halted the expedition he had joined and the last fading sounds of raindrops could be heard tapping upon the tent overhead. “So, the rain has finally ceased! Praise be to God for that.” he muttered aloud, realizing just how mad it was that he did utter such an exclamation when only he was present to hear it uttered. He oft did things like that when he was nervous, and at present he was on the very edge of reason due to the adrenaline coursing through him. He unsheathed his blade and stood silent, his ears listening for the sound that had awakened him to return. It was the cry of a wild animal of some sort, as deadly a danger in the jungle as one could fear to encounter. Perhaps a jaguar! That would be quite the bad omen indeed, if that should prove to be the case. He opened the flap of his tent to peer outside, and the campsite was unnaturally quiet, the scent of rain heavy in the air. No one seemed to be disturbed, as all were asleep save the guards who kept watch in shifts. The soldiers were mercenaries for hire, and it was no secret that the scholar he was funding this expedition paid them well. The man was rich, and in the employ of the Church nonetheless. Diego was, in contrast, a simpler sort of man, a man of action... he liked adventure normally, and sought it out wherever and whenever he could. He had a reputation of being a good man to bring along on these sorts of expeditions to the New World, and he was seen as a boon to his traveling companions, a powerful protector, and something of a good luck charm as well. It should not be surprising, then, that he felt ill at ease to consider that he had heard something which no one else appeared to have. He walked out of the tent and approached the guards, who were sitting very calmly around the remains of the campfire... long since doused by the sudden tropical storm that only now was finally at an end. “Did either of you men hear the sound of a wild animal? Like a large cat, it seemed to be.” he asked of them, but the largest of the men only said in reply: “No... if we had, you can bet we would not be remaining so calm, Diego. Perhaps you merely had a nightmare is all! What sort of cat did it sound like... not a house cat, surely.” And the man chuckled a bit, though his companion at the campfire did not join him in that chuckle. Diego did chuckle a bit, and answered: “No, surely not! Else I would not be so distressed. It sounded like a jaguar, to be honest with you.” The guard's face did seem to go very pale on hearing that. He explained: “To the natives of these parts, the jaguar is a sacred beast. One to be respected and feared, as well as revered. I know not what you dreaming of one portends, but I have to admit it does almost sound like an omen. And mind you, I am not a superstitious man!” Diego sat himself on a nearby log, one of several dragged to the middle of the camp for the comfort of those in charge of the nightly vigil that the guards held. The two men already seated suddenly became somewhat anxious, and he asked them upon noticing this: “Since it cannot possibly be my charming company, I do have to ask... what is it that is making you so anxious all of a sudden?” The other man, the one who had not spoken previously, who was a shorter and leaner fellow, stated in reply: “No, Diego, you are indeed as charming a fellow as ever! You do your legend credit. It is this talk of jaguars, is all... wild beasts are nothing to make light of, and many a camp has been decimated by large groups of wild beasts whenever such had a mind to attack men.” Diego whistled and then said: “And if you say the words wild beasts at least one more time, we could make a drinking game out of it! Fear not, boys. That is why I am here, to protect you when you get scared.” The larger man then laughed aloud and said in a joking tone of voice: “Fuck you, Diego! You really are a magnificent bastard, you know.” Diego then winked and stated: “Oh I know, believe me I know.” Then, suddenly the smaller man's eyes rolled up in his head, exposing the whites of his eyes as he began to go into some kind of a violent seizure. The man clutched the dirt hard.
The man did not fall to the ground, though he learned forward far enough to nearly do so. The weird seizure seemed to become worse, as he let out a feral, ferocious sounding growl. Precisely like that of a large animal! Diego leapt to his feat and held his sword steady before him, ready for action. The larger of the two guards, who was not afflicted unlike his fellow, jumped to his feet as well and made the sign of the cross as he reached for his musket. “Mother of God!” he exclaimed, whilst the smaller man had a mad gleam come into his eyes... once they were no longer rolled up into his head... and his mouth had in it fangs that once had been his teeth. His hands were claws, and over his skin grew a coat of fur that was as black as the man's hair on his head ever was. Swiftly, he had shifted into a form reminiscent of a panther and began to claw about him wildly, nearly missing his companion as he did so. “I... what am I supposed to do, kill him? He is... he was... my friend!” shouted the large man. Diego said to him with as brutal of honesty as he was ever known for in such situations: “Let me ask you this! If the man tries to kill us... though clearly he is man no more... will you do your duty and act, or stand by and let your friendship with him cloud your judgment?” The human-shaped panther thing then slashed with razor sharp claws at Diego, who jumped back to avoid the attack. “I will do my duty, Diego! But I do not like it, that it comes to this.” said the large guard, who fired his musket at his former friend. The panther, or whatever it was, shrieked in a savage voice that was not quite human or feline, but something horrible. Its' eyes glowed with a visible green fire, and with acrobatic skill it leapt about whilst the two men who had thankfully remained human did their best to put a stop to the creature. All this noise roused all of the members of the expedition from their slumber, and soon a large crowd was gathered to watch as the frightening spectacle unfolded before them. Seeing an opportunity, the panther beast leapt speedily at a man who was one of the native bearers... its' claws ripping him to pieces before anyone could react. In a display of unnatural speed, the monster then attacked and slew several more men before at last it had in due course been fired upon by the large guard... and several other guards who arrived in time to join in the fight against the fiend... enough to finally weaken it and slow its' movements. Diego, seeing the best possible opportunity, lunged forth at the creature with his sword and quickly plunged the blade as deep into the thing's body as he could manage to get it. He jumped back, leaving the sword in the creature as he retrieved a nearby pistol that one of the guards had dropped during the chaos. He fired that pistol at the thing's head, its' shot managing thanks to Diego's unerring accuracy to pierce one of the thing's eyes. Blood spattered outward from that wound, as even more blood poured forth from the far deeper wound caused by the sword impaling the beast. Finally, the panther monster toppled over and succumbed to the loss of so much blood, which formed a scarlet pool at the unnatural animal's feet. It was laying in it, ere long, and in the throes of its' death spasms. Finally, it perished. The large guard bellowed: “What in the name of all that is holy was that!” Diego sat down on a log to catch his breath... he was hardly a young man anymore, and though middle age had been good to him, situations like this did cause him a bit of weariness. Plus, he had not gotten a full night's sleep thanks to first his nightmare and then this waking nightmare that he had been cast into. Breathing heavily, he told the guard: “I have no idea what that was and this is the first time in my life I've ever witnessed a man turn into... whatever that was.” The scholar who was in charge of the expedition, a slender and rather feminine looking man named Javier, said in a manner that was outwardly calm whilst inwardly he was terrified... which his right hand's shaking did a lot to show for all the world to see: “I have seen such sights before, on previous expeditions to this area. These jungles, they house all manner of evils and terrors... some which can afflict a man and in the end of all things consume him utterly. The man went mad, clearly, and it was well that he was dispatched.” Diego then countered that as he explained: “Javier! That was no man, that was a... a thing. A monster.” Javier then walked over to the panther creature's corpse and pointed to it as he stated: “Whatever it was you saw, or thought you saw... that, is a man. Not a monster!” and Diego saw that the corpse that did so lay upon the ground was that of the other guard who had been on watch during the night, not a creature.
Diego asked the large guard and all the others who had taken part in the fight against the fiend: “Very well! So now, I must ask you all... what did you see, what were we fighting against?” And they all said, to a man, that they had been engaged in a fight against a large panther that walked like a man. The large guard himself even described the man's transformation in detail. However, everyone else swore that all they had witnessed was these men all fighting one of their fellows who had gone mad and was behaving like a feral animal. Garcia, the young priest who the Church had sent along with the expedition to serve as a kind of spiritual advisor of sorts... as well as to ensure that God's will was done in all things... who stood close to Javier and who remained as composed as he always seemed to be; he said in a calm and rather almost reassuring tone of voice: “Men only become like beasts when the Devil enters into them. If the Devil entered into that man's heart, it can only mean there is indeed evil in this place. I suggest... now that the rain is stopped... that we pack up the camp and move along with our expedition. Lest more terrors befall us here!” Javier was in complete agreement with this, and within the next hour or two the camp was dismantled and the expedition was well upon its' way. That was how Diego came to realize... there was something truly strange going on in this jungle. The guards once more donned their plumed helmets and breastplates, and were carrying the full complement of their weapons. The priest, as ever, was clad in his plain black robe with a cross pendant hanging from a gold chain around his neck. The young priest had a neatly trimmed beard but was bald otherwise. Javier wore the finest and easily the most comfortable attire money could buy, and the man was considerably wealthy. Clothing fit perhaps for a prince! And he wore his dark hair long, tied back in a neat ponytail style. “Is he wearing makeup like a harlot?” Diego wondered at one point, but decided Javier was not, and that the man simply had the most naturally reddish lips he had ever seen on a man. And quite the blush to his cheeks! But, the man was a scholar after all and apart from these expeditions he was known for hosting, Javier was used to a life of comfort and ease. A life in keeping with his nature... which, was that he saw himself as, very much, a nobleman of the highest standing. He was used to being pampered and obeyed, but despite this he was never tyrannical about things and people seemed to like him a great deal, if not love him. Diego secretly felt something of a profound attraction towards Javier, but he never spoke of it openly. He had signed up for the past three expeditions the man had undertaken, though famously Javier had engaged in a long series of them. This was the first one where things appeared to be unraveling, however. It had taken a bit to bury the dead men prior to departing through the jungle once more... if the guard had not been transformed into a monster, then however did he manage to kill those people with such speed and ferocity using only his bare hands! This, Diego desperately wondered about as he walked in line with all the others, his eyes gazing about him at the jungle whilst the remainder of the night ebbed and dawn did come upon the land. The torches the men had carried during the night were put out once day came, and Javier was grateful for that mercy. Torches in the jungle could lead to wildfires if anyone proved to be careless with them. That had happened once before, and he wished no repeat of that disaster. Diego wore a pair of loose fitting cloth breeches, gray in color, tucked into a pair of leather travel boots. He had a crimson sash tied around his waist, over a leather belt from which hung his steel Toledo sword in its' rather fancy looking scabbard. A faithful friend, that sword, always at his side! He wore aside from that a black blouse-like shirt with billowing sleeves over which he had donned a deep red leather jerkin of the best quality he could afford. Upon his head, was a wide brimmed black hat with a black feather set in it. His hair was dark and all about his shoulders, but no longer than that... his eyes keen and eager, and his features somewhat sharp... and there was just enough gray about his temples that people could well see that the man looked very much his age, which was forty something. He had stopped bothering to keep track of his birthdays years previous, so he did not actually know his own age anymore. To him, people like Garcia and Javier were young enough to be his sons... and that made him a bit jealous of the fact that Javier had come by so much wealth and influence at so young an age in life. That, vexed him!
Diego had a neatly trimmed mustache, whilst Javier was as clean shaved and free of facial hair as did compliment his youthful appearance. Diego sighed, whilst he checked the pistols he kept in the baldric he wore about him to make certain they were loaded and at the ready. He did this as everyone did walk along, and it served to take his mind off of the things that bothered him. And so far, there was much to this expedition that bothered him. They were searching for the location of a lost city, one said to have in it the fabled Fountain of Youth. It was a madman's quest, and one many men had discovered to be quite the fruitless endeavor. Javier certainly did not need such a thing, and the stake that the Church had in it this time around seemed mysterious at best and downright strange at worst. “You would think that they would want to disprove its' existence, the better to declare that only God can grant eternal life.” he did muse silently to himself. “Ah well! None of my business, so long as I am paid well for my efforts.” So that was the last of the things that played through his mind before he absorbed himself in keeping a bit of a more watchful eye on his surroundings than he had been doing previously. Soon enough, they left the part of the jungle wherein the mad events of the previous night had taken place... and they came at some speed to a place where just off the beaten trail there could be seen among the trees a series of huts that appeared to be long abandoned and in quite a state of disrepair. Javier mentioned: “If anyone lived here, they most certainly do not live here any longer.” and Garcia remarked: “I had not heard that these parts were inhabited, in recent memory. The guides never gave any inclination that people lived here at all, at the least not since the fabled city we are searching for became itself abandoned. And clearly... the huts we are seeing appear to be a great deal more recent than that! Quite the contradiction I should say.” Diego laughed to hear this, and stated: “Everything we've been through so far has been a contradiction! If it were up to me, we'd have turned back after last night's incident. And, I am not a coward, so when I say that... you know something is seriously wrong.” Javier then said in a childlike tone of voice that did make Diego wonder if the man was not mocking him: “Well, I am the one in charge here and I say that we continue onward! A bout of jungle madness falling upon a man, is no reason to turn back, my brave fellow.” Diego then insisted: “He tore people apart with his bare hands! How is that even possible?” Yet this was a moot point to Javier, who tried to rationalize it by suggesting: “A concealed weapon, I would say. How else? We all saw him do what he did... and, whilst I will grant you that it looked as if he used his hands... that is quite impossible, which only leaves him having had to have used a weapon that was discarded during the confusion of his attack. The way he was leaping all about and running all around... he likely lost it in the underbrush and we failed to find it. Not that we looked for it, to find it at all! So, in the absence of proof that this was supernatural I will maintain that the man simply went mad and we shall leave our debate about it there.” Diego finally conceded: “Well, it was dark! And the torches at the peripheral of the camp were dim at best. So have it your way, Javier! The man was mad, and only that.” This seemed to settle their argument, but the large guard who had witnessed his friend's transformation was not convinced, though he kept that to himself. Suddenly, a tree fell across the path ahead, with the sound of it crashing loudly. Diego cursed, and Garcia lamented: “It is as if God almighty wished to stop us in our tracks!” It took some time to discover a way around this blockade, but as they finally found a serviceable path Diego looked at the tree as they passed by it and noted aloud: “Look! That tree did not fall on its' own, it was cut down.” and surely enough there were signs of a sharp implement having thus been used to weaken the tree trunk enough for it to fall as soon as someone might draw near to it. This was unnerving to Javier, who looked about nervously. “If we had kept the horses, instead of having to set them free thanks to the jungle becoming too dense for them, I would say we should ride as swiftly as possible back to more civilized parts. But, you are the one in charge of this expedition, Javier, not I!” so said Diego, and this time Javier said nothing to counter the man's opinions. Garcia suggested: “There, it seems, are people yet living here, no matter how abandoned and wild things look. I think we should, if we mean to continue forward, do so quickly. I, do not think the people of this place wish for visitors!”
Suddenly, darts shot out from the jungle and narrowly missed hitting members of the expedition. The guards were alerted by this, and looked about them with their eyes wide. Diego shouted: “Move, quick! We're being attacked.” and everyone bolted ahead, as fast as their legs could carry them, whilst a storm of darts shot forth from the trees just beyond everyone's sight. “This is intolerable!” shouted Javier, and Diego rushed forward to catch up to him, as he said to the man in reply: “I told you we should have just turned back! But you are the one in charge, not I. So now we run forward, it seems, rather than back. I am sure that will end well.” He was clearly being sarcastic, but Javier was too frightened to banter with him at present. One of the guides pointed ahead, and everyone followed the path that the man was thus suggesting. The sounds of movement came from the trees all around, and it was difficult to make out in a precise manner just where those sounds were coming from. “They're trying to surround us! And doing a good job of it too.” bellowed the large guard, just before a spear shot forth from a distance away and took him through the left eye, killing him almost instantly. “God damn it!” shouted Diego, as he moved to protect Javier as best as he could. He fired one of his pistols in the direction the spear had come from but if he hit anything or anyone, there was no indication of such an accomplishment. “Fucking disaster, that is what this expedition is!” cursed Diego, whilst Javier said to him: “I have been through far worse scrapes than this.” And both men held their swords at the ready. For like Diego, Javier had kept his own fine blade sheathed at his side for just such an occasion as this. Everyone pressed forward as fast as was possible on such wild, rugged, and partially overgrown trails. Were these animal trails, or ones used by the same inhabitants of this place who were presenting trying to kill them? Diego and Javier could not be certain, and did not care. Garcia kept on praying, as if he might somehow prevail upon God to stop the attack and grant everyone safe passage. Diego shouted over to him: “Garcia, quit your babbling and run faster! And try not to trip over your robe as you do so. God is not going to save us here, I think.” As if on cue, hundreds of people dressed in long crimson tunics emerged from the trees carrying sharp and somewhat odd looking serrated wooden swords. Some carried long spears adorned with feathers, and still others carried crude blowpipes made from reeds with them. They had skin of an almost bronze hue and hair that was long and wild and dark, as dark as were their eyes. Some wore feathered headdresses, and others wore frightful looking wooden masks with grotesque faces painted upon them. They were all shouting in some language no one in the expedition could understand... not even the guides, nor any of the native bearers. It was a language more ancient than anyone had a recollection of, and to hear it thus being uttered in anger was a frightful thing to experience. “They almost look like Aztecs, but I've never heard of Aztecs ranging this far south and this deep into these jungles before!” shouted Garcia, who it seemed was at least somewhat familiar with who these people were and what their boundaries normally consisted of. “Also, they aren't speaking in the usual language for them to be Aztecs.” he added, as if it was time for a scholarly discussion about such things. Javier screamed at the priest: “I don't care if they are Aztecs or not! We need to escape them... they have us grossly outnumbered.” Diego then noticed an odd thing: “They've stopped trying to attack us, though... they're just waiting for us to make a move and to stop running. Almost as if they are afraid of the part of the jungle that we are fleeing towards.” Sure enough, the emergence and halting of these adversaries coincided directly with the moment when all of the members of the expedition who currently remained had crossed with haste into a very dark part of the jungle indeed, one which had none of those huts within it. It was a place wild, dark, and clearly also frightening to those people, whoever they actually were. Once the expedition had reached that place, it was possible at last for everyone to halt in order to catch their breaths. “I do not know if I like the fact that we are now someplace where even they fear to follow us. But at least we are alive!” Diego said as he pat Javier on the back in a friendly manner. As they proceeded deeper and deeper into this uncharted territory, they began to notice the ruins of large walls that once had been put together from large chunks of stone that were quite massive in size. The ruins were covered in thick vines... nature, the final victor.
Soon, there were more than walls, there were structures of varying shapes and sizes, and in a style of a sort that even Javier with all his knowledge and studies could never have hoped to recognize. “None of this looks even remotely like anything the Aztecs or any other of the civilizations of the New World are known to build.” he commented, and Garcia remarked: “Strange, it almost looks like a style that I've seen only once before in the deserts of the regions beyond the Holy Land, when I attempted to do some missionary work in that part of the world, unsuccessfully.” Diego laughed, but said nothing, preferring to think to himself: “Missionary work is a nice, pretty, flowery way of putting it! That bastard, from all I've heard tell, tried to force the Muslims of that region to convert to Christ. Small wonder they did not find such a prospect appealing, given the Church's propensity for using violence as a conversion tactic.” Although himself a Christian, Diego had a great deal of respect for the Muslims and having heard much of Garcia's brutality towards them... he could not help but despise the man. “Didn't the ancients actually use sandstone and mud bricks in their construction, in that part of the world?” asked Javier, learning in to his knowledge to point out the flaw in what Garcia was claiming. Garcia, however, explained: “In a lot of their building projects, yes... yes, they did. But not in all of them! This kind of stone work, I have seen and you can believe me when I say that I saw it precisely where I told you that I did. The people of that region who yet remained there, however, drove me and those with me out of that place due to their zealousness in defending their ancestors' once thriving places. And, their desire to keep faithful to those same ancestors' savage pagan ways.” Diego chuckled, and upon noticing him doing so the priest asked him: “Is something funny to you, Diego, about anything I have just said?” Diego then waved his hand in a nonchalant manner, and said: “Oh, it is nothing Father Garcia! Nothing at all. I... just try to find the humor in everything in life, fret not.” And then for a time the priest and Javier babbled on and on about the historical implications of discovering middle eastern architecture in the New World. The sort of dull conversation, as Diego considered it to be, that could only be of interest to scholars and priests. Slowly and at a steady pace, the expedition party continued through this dark part of the jungle filled with ruins of a very decidedly distinctive sort that should not have been there at all... until, they soon arrived at the remains of a gargantuan step pyramid. On the top of the pyramid sat a round structure topped with some kind of a dome, all of it made of stone but carved much smoother than the other ruins all around. Oddly this particular structure atop that pyramid looked unmistakably Roman, with elegant columns and that sort of classical design that simply should not have been in this particular part of the world at all. Right when Garcia noticed this, he made the sign of the cross and exclaimed: “Mother of God! That temple at the top of the pyramid... it is Roman! But there is not a single historical record known to the Church, of the ancient Romans ever reaching this far afield from the boundaries of their empire.” Diego wanted to say something sarcastic just to ruin the priest's big dramatic moment, but he kept whatever he was just about to say to himself. Javier whistled in amazement, and declared: “Perhaps what we have been long in search of can be found within that temple!” before asking Garcia: “But, who do you think should be the first of us to enter it and find out? It could be very dangerous.” Diego then raised his hand and said: “I will do it. I am getting on in the years, and I must admit I have had a pretty good life all concerned. Besides, if something terrible happens to me given all I have survived over the years, then you know it is time to get the hell out of this place and never look back.” Garcia agreed that Diego should indeed be the one to check out the temple... but, he demanded that the adventurer bring a guide along with him so that he might not be going in totally alone. No one argued the point, and without any further planning or consideration of other possibilities... Diego and the guide accompanying him climbed carefully up the steps of the monstrous pyramid, soon reaching the top without any incident. The temple entrance was a square archway flanked by statues that... unlike the Roman style of the temple itself... were very much in a style more consistent with the peoples of this particular part of the world. They appeared to depict some kind of creatures with squat and bestial bodies, grotesquely skeletal faces, and wild manes of hair.
The guide trembled upon seeing the statues, and warned Diego: “I know these depictions! They mean to warn of death, and to keep the unwary from entering a place of great danger.” The man was normally a calm fellow, and it was not as if he was unarmed himself. The guide carried with him, a sword lent to him by one of the guards, and although he was dressed lightly in a long white tunic with a rope-like belt tied about his waist and leather sandals upon his otherwise bare feet... it was practical attire, given how sweltering was the heat of the jungle during this time of the year. The short sleeves of the tunic were a bit discolored from sweat, however, though the guide was not concerned about his appearance. He was a weathered looking man without a single hair on his body save for his bushy black eyebrows and thick eyelashes. Of all their guides, this man had been the most capable and steadfast. If he was nervous, then there was good cause to be cautious! Diego leaned forward to peer into the temple, but it was too black and dark within its' confines for anything to be made out at all. The guide lit a torch and handed it to the adventurer, who used it to have a better look. Inside the temple was an empty chamber save for a pit set into the floor that appeared to contain a spiral stairwell leading downward into the pyramid itself. The dome's interior was covered in Roman frescoes that depicted the life of Christ, as if this was a church of some sort. Yet in so far as anyone knew, Christianity had never reached this wild place and Diego had a certainty that Father Garcia would not even know what to make of this discovery. It was not entirely an inconceivable notion, that a group of ancient Roman Christians could have somehow journeyed to this part of the world and attempted to establish a church here... and none of the tales of this lost city had a single one that claimed to know with certainty exactly when the city had been established or by who. So it was not that this was totally outside the realm of human possibility! It was, rather, simply that it felt so very out of place. The guide waited with a second torch at the top of the stairwell, whilst Diego had a mind to go down it. He then suggested that the guide wait outside so that his torch would not go out if Diego took a while. Finding this a rational suggestion, the guide went outside and sat down to wait. In the meantime, Diego... his own torch well in hand... descended into the very bowels of the pyramid. As he made his way down the old stone stairwell, he could not help but feel as if he was journeying down and deeply into the very open mouth of Hell itself. After some time, the stairs ended before an archway much like the square archway of the temple up above. Passing through it, the adventurer noticed that he was now within a huge square chamber that likely was at the pyramid's lowest level. Elegant columns lined the chamber walls, and in the middle of the room was a raised, circular pool of water that had the look of an enshrined natural spring to it. Surrounding the pool itself was a specific series of very long, thin shafts that had been cut deeply into the floor. Water bubbled up from the spring like a fountain, and the excess that bubbled over poured down into the shafts to keep the chamber from ever flooding. Very clearly, someone had put a lot of thought into how this was all going to work. Surrounding the fountain were five statues exactly like the ones flanking the entrance to the temple... only these had wings. And bodies covered in eyes. “Such frightful angels guard this sacred place!” exclaimed Diego aloud, letting his thoughts be given voice audibly. The walls had once been covered in murals and frescoes, but time had taken its' toll and nothing of the details of what they once depicted could be made out. The air was hot and humid, and moisture dripped in places from the ceiling. Most disturbingly, however, was how surrounding the fountain and the statues on all sides were heaps of human bones... the remains of those who had come in search of this place previously. Some remains were more recent than others, and so it was that a few were in varying states of decay. Naturally, the smell was nauseating. Oddly, none of the dead people appeared to have died by violence, judging by the state of their remains... it was as if they had simply died in this place after laying down to sleep. That, Diego did not like! Because it made less sense even than everything else so far had. He reached out a finger to touch the water of the fountain... and it was not hot to the touch but rather cool. He had been expecting it to be scalding hot, since that was typically the sort of spring you'd find where the water was bubbling up from below like it was here.
He thought he would have to pull his hand away immediately, yet there was no need for such concern. “Should I taste of it, to learn if it is poisonous somehow?” he mused silently, coming to a the very likely conclusion, that the people who died had to have died after making contact with the fountain somehow. Since the water itself was not deadly, perhaps something it contained was deadly if one drank of it! He knew better than to go back, fetch the guide, and force him to drink from the fountain. “Even if I was a cruel man, that would be wrong, and God would surely punish me for such a deed.” he reasoned, and as hard as it was he knew it was for the best to drink from the fountain himself. “I shall either be younger, after this... or I will be dead.” he said aloud, with a chuckle as he braced himself for what he intended to do. He had so far faced perils of the sort that most men would have shied away from if they were sane, and he had journeyed clear across the world form his native Spain in search of adventure. In search of... whatever this truly was that he had discovered in this place. Yet, he felt fear in the presence of a simple fountain of water. He glanced down at the bones at his feet, and he knew there was a danger here. Even if he could not fathom what the danger actually was. Suddenly, Garcia came rushing up behind him, his voice echoing through the chamber as he declared: “I see you have found it, Diego! This surely has to be the legendary Fountain of Youth. Go ahead... drink of it. If God is with you, you have nothing truly to fear.” Garcia was holding a torch in his hand, his eyes wide and wild looking as he gazed about the chamber awestruck. “Oh, but you should really go first Father Garcia! I mean, sure you may be young, but the worst thing the fountain might do is make you a lad once again. You'd have more than a report to tell your masters in the Church then... you'd be the living proof that the legend is true.” Diego thus said unto the priest, who actually did consider it for a moment, it appeared, before stating: “And if I die as a consequence... then who shall tell the Church that this is not the fountain men have believed that it was? I doubt those I am in the employ of, would believe a single word you might tell them even if you somehow gained an audience with them. No, I still firmly maintain that you should partake of it, not I!” And Father Garcia began to pray as he paced about the chamber. Annoyed and knowing he could not at all hope to win this argument, Diego calmly said: “Fine! I will do it... I, am the older one, the one most in need of the fountain's blessing if indeed it can grant a person such a thing. As you said, if God is with me and in good spirits this day then all shall be well. If not... well, I just hope you do not leave me here with the others who tried this before me. I have many mistresses in many countries who would be very put out if they could not visit my final resting place.” And the priest promised: “If you perish, I myself shall bear your body from this place and see to it that your bones are returned to Spain for proper burial. You have my word, as a man of God, that it shall be so!” Diego then winked and said: “I will take my chances with God and the fountain, then. For I trust them more than I do you, priest.” Without choosing to put it off any further, Diego learned in and drank from the fountain. The taste was surprisingly sweet, for spring water... and it tingled somewhat going down his throat. He drank several more mouthfuls just to be certain he had enough for a man his age... and then he backed away from the fountain. “Strange, it does not seem to do much of anything at all either way.” the adventurer said, shrugging his shoulders. It was disappointing! He had expected either to die on the spot or be made younger. Instead, the water had no special properties to it at all, that he could notice. Garcia then walked forward and followed suit, he himself drinking considerably less than Diego had. But no sooner than Garcia had done so, than he did let out an agonizing cry as his body was wracked by convulsions and apparent seizures. He clutched at his throat, dropping his torch unto the floor, where it went out the moment it hit. His eyes bulged in the most grotesque manner imaginable, and in the dim light of his own torch Diego could only gaze in dark horror whilst the priest's face appeared to become first sunken and then swiftly skeletal in appearance as he aged far beyond countless decades in but a brief moment... causing him to fall to the ground and die, on the spot. To look at him, one would think only the he had been an impossibly old man who had laid down to die, perhaps in his sleep, at the last. Yet, seemingly, Diego had been unaffected by the fountain.
He kicked Father Garcia's corpse to make certain the man was dead, and it was indeed true... all that he had just witnessed, truly had happened. “If it did that to him... what did it do to me?” wondered the adventurer, as he sat down for a moment to gather his thoughts. Suddenly, he felt overcome with a great weariness, and a desire to fall asleep. Before he could consider any other course of action, he fainted to the ground, and fell into a deep slumber, his torch falling into the fountain where its' light was by those waters extinguished. He did not dream, so far as he would ever be able to recall of what befell him after the priest's horrific death... and for a time he was in such utter blackness and darkness that he could not be certain either if he had actually opened his eyes or if he was still on the floor of the fountain chamber passed out in that awful, dreamless slumber that he had fallen into. He had no sarcastic words to say on this occasion, no thoughts in need of voicing beyond a primal desire simply to survive at all costs. Now that he had no means of illumination... he would need to find his way back to the stairs, and try to climb his way back up to the temple. Once there, he could escape the pyramid and return to the expedition. Ah but he felt so strange! He was naked... and his clothes lay scattered all about nearby. Why, would that be so! Had someone attempted to rob him whilst he was unconscious? He fumbled in the dark until he did find his sword, and he realized as he attempted to lift it, that he was simply too weak to. The blade was also a little bit larger than he remembered it being. His clothes were all bigger than he recalled them as being, as well, and they were so poorly fitting that the most he could manage with them was to put his shirt back on and wear it as a kind of makeshift tunic. “Have I shrunk in size? Oh God! No... this, this is impossible. The fountain did work after all. I am...” and he realized then what had befallen him, and he knew in that instant that he had indeed drank a little too much of the fountain's waters. He cried out, and his voice was no longer as it had been either! “I need to escape from this place as soon as I can... it is too dangerous for me to remain here, especially now that I am... like this.” he mused, and like as not he would have to find his way in the pitch black and hope for the best. He knew that the others back in the expedition would never recognize him, never believe his story. He had to come up with something, anything, to tell them! It would take a bit to get back, so he had time to think as he made his way back into the light once more. “Keep this place's true power a secret, Diego!” a woman's voice so called out from the direction of the fountain after he had managed to reach the base of the stairwell. “It is not truly meant for this world, after all.” she whispered. For that voice spoke in a hissing sort of whisper. Diego called out to the woman, or whatever it actually was that spoke to him in the blackness, saying: “Then take the fountain away from this world, so no one need ever die or be tempted to claim its' power again. What... what can I expect in the years to come?” All went silent, and the adventurer thought perhaps he had gone insane and that no one actually was speaking to him, and that the voice was in his head. Until the voice returned, and it came from right in front of him this time... there was a presence there, and it was something dreadful and terrifying. It said unto him, in the same hissing voice as previously: “You can expect a life far exceeding that of all others, and it would not be false to claim that you will live to witness futures the present generation can only dream of. Go forth! I will indeed take the fountain back with me whence both it and I came ere we were entrapped here. Those who did that deed are dust, and there is no longer anything to keep us here. Not now that you have claimed the fountain's power and in doing so made it your own. It holds no further power for mortals, none save death. For only one may in due course claim the eternal life that it held up until today. The fountain chose you, Diego! Never forget that it chose you.” And throughout all the generations to come, Diego Cruz would never once allow his mind to forget... even amid a future of infinite distractions... that he had been thus chosen. He reached his hand out to touch whatever it was that stood before him, his mind clear of all thoughts and his will stronger than iron. He had survived much, and there was no need to be afraid of the unknown anymore. She had reached out to him... he had to know what she was. He had to know that she was real! And not a figment of a mind on the verge of madness. “Forgive me, lady! But... I must know, that you are real.”
Javier had almost given Father Garcia and Diego up for dead once night fell and camp had to be set up for the evening. Everyone in the expedition was present and accounted for, except for those two. Oh, of course that is not counting all those who perished during the course of this dismal adventure. And, to Javier it had been dismal indeed! “Do you think he is dead?” one of the men asked Javier, but he had no way of knowing one way or another. “Who, Diego? No! Somehow, I just cannot see him perishing with not first giving a terrible fight to whatever sought to claim his life. If you mean Father Garcia... I am of half a mind to wonder if he and Diego did not kill each other. Perhaps we should send someone to find out what happened to the two of them.” suggested Javier, but no one was eager to volunteer for such a task. Suddenly, one of the guards that walked the circumference of the camp site called out: “Javier! I just spotted someone approaching camp from the direction of the pyramid. It looks like a little child of some kind.” Javier rushed over to have a look for himself, and sure enough a child of about ten years of age approached the camp, wearing Diego's shirt like a tunic. It was impossible to tell if the child was a boy or a girl, and when the youth spoke it was with a light, lilting, melodic sounding voice. The child so said unto Javier once it stood within the man's presence: “The man you call Diego and the man you call Father Garcia are both dead. They fought over who should drink from the Fountain of Youth, and were in the end victims of their own basest greed. I was a part of a past expedition to find the fountain, along with my parents, and everyone in our party had perished in the jungle except for me. I have been living in the pyramid, ever since! To his credit, before succumbing to his greed, Diego found my hiding place and was willing to take me back to Spain with him and so keep me as his own child. He said if anything should befall him, then I should hold a man named Javier to keep his promise, in his stead. For, he told me that Javier is a man of honor, as well as a good friend.” And, the young man named Javier regarded the small child kindly, and promised the youth: “I am Javier! And I am indeed a man of honor just as it was that Diego had told you. I will accept you into my home and treat you like my own child, if it so be Diego's last wishes that I should do so. But pray, tell me your name! Unless you should wish for me to come with a name for you, if by chance through your ordeal you have forgotten your original one.” And the child said with a warm smile playing upon its' face: “My name is Avila. That is all I remember of it, having forgotten the names of my parents following their deaths.” Javier then put an arm around Avila, and told the child: “That is fine! Since, henceforth, you are to be my own child, your last name shall be the same as mine. We will remain encamped here for the night, and on the morrow we will send people down into the pyramid to retrieve Diego's and Garcia's bodies. After all, we cannot leave them to rot in this hellish jungle. I take it, then, that the fountain held no real power when all is said and done?” And, Avila stared intently into Javier's eyes as the youth stated: “If it had any power at all, it was a power as only death could wield.” And that was when Javier realized that this child was far too mature for such a young age. It was decided that the child should share Javier's tent, and the two slept in each other's arms throughout the night, which was how Javier came to discover that Avila was a hermaphrodite. Strangely a sudden lethargy came over all of the camp's guards... and ere long there was no one left awake to keep watch any longer. When dawn came, and the sun's light managed with great difficulty to shine down to the campsite where it sat within that darkest of all jungles... everyone who awakened noticed with much shock that there were no ruins present of any kind, no pyramid either. Just a dense jungle wherein there was not a single trace of any presence of humanity to be seen. This was nature's domain, and it held in it nothing for civilized people. Had it not been for the presence of the child, Avila, Javier would have very likely thought the whole thing had been some sort of mad dream, and that Diego and Father Garcia had instead simply run away. But Avila told him: “You dreamed nothing, Javier! There was something else, something not of this world, that lived in the pyramid with me. You could say... it was the keeper of the fountain. It said that the fountain was not of this world, and that it planned to take it away forever. So... it was true to its' word.” Following that... Javier's expedition returned to Spain. Never to set forth again.
Diego Cruz was awakened in the middle of the pitch-black of those dark hours past midnight, and as he did awaken... he felt a sense of dread creeping upon him. Instinctively, he reached for the long sword that lay nearby, on the large sack full of supplies that the native bearers had brought and laid in his tent with much care. He nearly tripped on the animal skins that covered the ground, but caught himself so as to not fall. It had been raining most of the previous day, and camp had been set up to wait out the rain... but this had halted the expedition he had joined and the last fading sounds of raindrops could be heard tapping upon the tent overhead. “So, the rain has finally ceased! Praise be to God for that.” he muttered aloud, realizing just how mad it was that he did utter such an exclamation when only he was present to hear it uttered. He oft did things like that when he was nervous, and at present he was on the very edge of reason due to the adrenaline coursing through him. He unsheathed his blade and stood silent, his ears listening for the sound that had awakened him to return. It was the cry of a wild animal of some sort, as deadly a danger in the jungle as one could fear to encounter. Perhaps a jaguar! That would be quite the bad omen indeed, if that should prove to be the case. He opened the flap of his tent to peer outside, and the campsite was unnaturally quiet, the scent of rain heavy in the air. No one seemed to be disturbed, as all were asleep save the guards who kept watch in shifts. The soldiers were mercenaries for hire, and it was no secret that the scholar he was funding this expedition paid them well. The man was rich, and in the employ of the Church nonetheless. Diego was, in contrast, a simpler sort of man, a man of action... he liked adventure normally, and sought it out wherever and whenever he could. He had a reputation of being a good man to bring along on these sorts of expeditions to the New World, and he was seen as a boon to his traveling companions, a powerful protector, and something of a good luck charm as well. It should not be surprising, then, that he felt ill at ease to consider that he had heard something which no one else appeared to have. He walked out of the tent and approached the guards, who were sitting very calmly around the remains of the campfire... long since doused by the sudden tropical storm that only now was finally at an end. “Did either of you men hear the sound of a wild animal? Like a large cat, it seemed to be.” he asked of them, but the largest of the men only said in reply: “No... if we had, you can bet we would not be remaining so calm, Diego. Perhaps you merely had a nightmare is all! What sort of cat did it sound like... not a house cat, surely.” And the man chuckled a bit, though his companion at the campfire did not join him in that chuckle. Diego did chuckle a bit, and answered: “No, surely not! Else I would not be so distressed. It sounded like a jaguar, to be honest with you.” The guard's face did seem to go very pale on hearing that. He explained: “To the natives of these parts, the jaguar is a sacred beast. One to be respected and feared, as well as revered. I know not what you dreaming of one portends, but I have to admit it does almost sound like an omen. And mind you, I am not a superstitious man!” Diego sat himself on a nearby log, one of several dragged to the middle of the camp for the comfort of those in charge of the nightly vigil that the guards held. The two men already seated suddenly became somewhat anxious, and he asked them upon noticing this: “Since it cannot possibly be my charming company, I do have to ask... what is it that is making you so anxious all of a sudden?” The other man, the one who had not spoken previously, who was a shorter and leaner fellow, stated in reply: “No, Diego, you are indeed as charming a fellow as ever! You do your legend credit. It is this talk of jaguars, is all... wild beasts are nothing to make light of, and many a camp has been decimated by large groups of wild beasts whenever such had a mind to attack men.” Diego whistled and then said: “And if you say the words wild beasts at least one more time, we could make a drinking game out of it! Fear not, boys. That is why I am here, to protect you when you get scared.” The larger man then laughed aloud and said in a joking tone of voice: “Fuck you, Diego! You really are a magnificent bastard, you know.” Diego then winked and stated: “Oh I know, believe me I know.” Then, suddenly the smaller man's eyes rolled up in his head, exposing the whites of his eyes as he began to go into some kind of a violent seizure. The man clutched the dirt hard.
The man did not fall to the ground, though he learned forward far enough to nearly do so. The weird seizure seemed to become worse, as he let out a feral, ferocious sounding growl. Precisely like that of a large animal! Diego leapt to his feat and held his sword steady before him, ready for action. The larger of the two guards, who was not afflicted unlike his fellow, jumped to his feet as well and made the sign of the cross as he reached for his musket. “Mother of God!” he exclaimed, whilst the smaller man had a mad gleam come into his eyes... once they were no longer rolled up into his head... and his mouth had in it fangs that once had been his teeth. His hands were claws, and over his skin grew a coat of fur that was as black as the man's hair on his head ever was. Swiftly, he had shifted into a form reminiscent of a panther and began to claw about him wildly, nearly missing his companion as he did so. “I... what am I supposed to do, kill him? He is... he was... my friend!” shouted the large man. Diego said to him with as brutal of honesty as he was ever known for in such situations: “Let me ask you this! If the man tries to kill us... though clearly he is man no more... will you do your duty and act, or stand by and let your friendship with him cloud your judgment?” The human-shaped panther thing then slashed with razor sharp claws at Diego, who jumped back to avoid the attack. “I will do my duty, Diego! But I do not like it, that it comes to this.” said the large guard, who fired his musket at his former friend. The panther, or whatever it was, shrieked in a savage voice that was not quite human or feline, but something horrible. Its' eyes glowed with a visible green fire, and with acrobatic skill it leapt about whilst the two men who had thankfully remained human did their best to put a stop to the creature. All this noise roused all of the members of the expedition from their slumber, and soon a large crowd was gathered to watch as the frightening spectacle unfolded before them. Seeing an opportunity, the panther beast leapt speedily at a man who was one of the native bearers... its' claws ripping him to pieces before anyone could react. In a display of unnatural speed, the monster then attacked and slew several more men before at last it had in due course been fired upon by the large guard... and several other guards who arrived in time to join in the fight against the fiend... enough to finally weaken it and slow its' movements. Diego, seeing the best possible opportunity, lunged forth at the creature with his sword and quickly plunged the blade as deep into the thing's body as he could manage to get it. He jumped back, leaving the sword in the creature as he retrieved a nearby pistol that one of the guards had dropped during the chaos. He fired that pistol at the thing's head, its' shot managing thanks to Diego's unerring accuracy to pierce one of the thing's eyes. Blood spattered outward from that wound, as even more blood poured forth from the far deeper wound caused by the sword impaling the beast. Finally, the panther monster toppled over and succumbed to the loss of so much blood, which formed a scarlet pool at the unnatural animal's feet. It was laying in it, ere long, and in the throes of its' death spasms. Finally, it perished. The large guard bellowed: “What in the name of all that is holy was that!” Diego sat down on a log to catch his breath... he was hardly a young man anymore, and though middle age had been good to him, situations like this did cause him a bit of weariness. Plus, he had not gotten a full night's sleep thanks to first his nightmare and then this waking nightmare that he had been cast into. Breathing heavily, he told the guard: “I have no idea what that was and this is the first time in my life I've ever witnessed a man turn into... whatever that was.” The scholar who was in charge of the expedition, a slender and rather feminine looking man named Javier, said in a manner that was outwardly calm whilst inwardly he was terrified... which his right hand's shaking did a lot to show for all the world to see: “I have seen such sights before, on previous expeditions to this area. These jungles, they house all manner of evils and terrors... some which can afflict a man and in the end of all things consume him utterly. The man went mad, clearly, and it was well that he was dispatched.” Diego then countered that as he explained: “Javier! That was no man, that was a... a thing. A monster.” Javier then walked over to the panther creature's corpse and pointed to it as he stated: “Whatever it was you saw, or thought you saw... that, is a man. Not a monster!” and Diego saw that the corpse that did so lay upon the ground was that of the other guard who had been on watch during the night, not a creature.
Diego asked the large guard and all the others who had taken part in the fight against the fiend: “Very well! So now, I must ask you all... what did you see, what were we fighting against?” And they all said, to a man, that they had been engaged in a fight against a large panther that walked like a man. The large guard himself even described the man's transformation in detail. However, everyone else swore that all they had witnessed was these men all fighting one of their fellows who had gone mad and was behaving like a feral animal. Garcia, the young priest who the Church had sent along with the expedition to serve as a kind of spiritual advisor of sorts... as well as to ensure that God's will was done in all things... who stood close to Javier and who remained as composed as he always seemed to be; he said in a calm and rather almost reassuring tone of voice: “Men only become like beasts when the Devil enters into them. If the Devil entered into that man's heart, it can only mean there is indeed evil in this place. I suggest... now that the rain is stopped... that we pack up the camp and move along with our expedition. Lest more terrors befall us here!” Javier was in complete agreement with this, and within the next hour or two the camp was dismantled and the expedition was well upon its' way. That was how Diego came to realize... there was something truly strange going on in this jungle. The guards once more donned their plumed helmets and breastplates, and were carrying the full complement of their weapons. The priest, as ever, was clad in his plain black robe with a cross pendant hanging from a gold chain around his neck. The young priest had a neatly trimmed beard but was bald otherwise. Javier wore the finest and easily the most comfortable attire money could buy, and the man was considerably wealthy. Clothing fit perhaps for a prince! And he wore his dark hair long, tied back in a neat ponytail style. “Is he wearing makeup like a harlot?” Diego wondered at one point, but decided Javier was not, and that the man simply had the most naturally reddish lips he had ever seen on a man. And quite the blush to his cheeks! But, the man was a scholar after all and apart from these expeditions he was known for hosting, Javier was used to a life of comfort and ease. A life in keeping with his nature... which, was that he saw himself as, very much, a nobleman of the highest standing. He was used to being pampered and obeyed, but despite this he was never tyrannical about things and people seemed to like him a great deal, if not love him. Diego secretly felt something of a profound attraction towards Javier, but he never spoke of it openly. He had signed up for the past three expeditions the man had undertaken, though famously Javier had engaged in a long series of them. This was the first one where things appeared to be unraveling, however. It had taken a bit to bury the dead men prior to departing through the jungle once more... if the guard had not been transformed into a monster, then however did he manage to kill those people with such speed and ferocity using only his bare hands! This, Diego desperately wondered about as he walked in line with all the others, his eyes gazing about him at the jungle whilst the remainder of the night ebbed and dawn did come upon the land. The torches the men had carried during the night were put out once day came, and Javier was grateful for that mercy. Torches in the jungle could lead to wildfires if anyone proved to be careless with them. That had happened once before, and he wished no repeat of that disaster. Diego wore a pair of loose fitting cloth breeches, gray in color, tucked into a pair of leather travel boots. He had a crimson sash tied around his waist, over a leather belt from which hung his steel Toledo sword in its' rather fancy looking scabbard. A faithful friend, that sword, always at his side! He wore aside from that a black blouse-like shirt with billowing sleeves over which he had donned a deep red leather jerkin of the best quality he could afford. Upon his head, was a wide brimmed black hat with a black feather set in it. His hair was dark and all about his shoulders, but no longer than that... his eyes keen and eager, and his features somewhat sharp... and there was just enough gray about his temples that people could well see that the man looked very much his age, which was forty something. He had stopped bothering to keep track of his birthdays years previous, so he did not actually know his own age anymore. To him, people like Garcia and Javier were young enough to be his sons... and that made him a bit jealous of the fact that Javier had come by so much wealth and influence at so young an age in life. That, vexed him!
Diego had a neatly trimmed mustache, whilst Javier was as clean shaved and free of facial hair as did compliment his youthful appearance. Diego sighed, whilst he checked the pistols he kept in the baldric he wore about him to make certain they were loaded and at the ready. He did this as everyone did walk along, and it served to take his mind off of the things that bothered him. And so far, there was much to this expedition that bothered him. They were searching for the location of a lost city, one said to have in it the fabled Fountain of Youth. It was a madman's quest, and one many men had discovered to be quite the fruitless endeavor. Javier certainly did not need such a thing, and the stake that the Church had in it this time around seemed mysterious at best and downright strange at worst. “You would think that they would want to disprove its' existence, the better to declare that only God can grant eternal life.” he did muse silently to himself. “Ah well! None of my business, so long as I am paid well for my efforts.” So that was the last of the things that played through his mind before he absorbed himself in keeping a bit of a more watchful eye on his surroundings than he had been doing previously. Soon enough, they left the part of the jungle wherein the mad events of the previous night had taken place... and they came at some speed to a place where just off the beaten trail there could be seen among the trees a series of huts that appeared to be long abandoned and in quite a state of disrepair. Javier mentioned: “If anyone lived here, they most certainly do not live here any longer.” and Garcia remarked: “I had not heard that these parts were inhabited, in recent memory. The guides never gave any inclination that people lived here at all, at the least not since the fabled city we are searching for became itself abandoned. And clearly... the huts we are seeing appear to be a great deal more recent than that! Quite the contradiction I should say.” Diego laughed to hear this, and stated: “Everything we've been through so far has been a contradiction! If it were up to me, we'd have turned back after last night's incident. And, I am not a coward, so when I say that... you know something is seriously wrong.” Javier then said in a childlike tone of voice that did make Diego wonder if the man was not mocking him: “Well, I am the one in charge here and I say that we continue onward! A bout of jungle madness falling upon a man, is no reason to turn back, my brave fellow.” Diego then insisted: “He tore people apart with his bare hands! How is that even possible?” Yet this was a moot point to Javier, who tried to rationalize it by suggesting: “A concealed weapon, I would say. How else? We all saw him do what he did... and, whilst I will grant you that it looked as if he used his hands... that is quite impossible, which only leaves him having had to have used a weapon that was discarded during the confusion of his attack. The way he was leaping all about and running all around... he likely lost it in the underbrush and we failed to find it. Not that we looked for it, to find it at all! So, in the absence of proof that this was supernatural I will maintain that the man simply went mad and we shall leave our debate about it there.” Diego finally conceded: “Well, it was dark! And the torches at the peripheral of the camp were dim at best. So have it your way, Javier! The man was mad, and only that.” This seemed to settle their argument, but the large guard who had witnessed his friend's transformation was not convinced, though he kept that to himself. Suddenly, a tree fell across the path ahead, with the sound of it crashing loudly. Diego cursed, and Garcia lamented: “It is as if God almighty wished to stop us in our tracks!” It took some time to discover a way around this blockade, but as they finally found a serviceable path Diego looked at the tree as they passed by it and noted aloud: “Look! That tree did not fall on its' own, it was cut down.” and surely enough there were signs of a sharp implement having thus been used to weaken the tree trunk enough for it to fall as soon as someone might draw near to it. This was unnerving to Javier, who looked about nervously. “If we had kept the horses, instead of having to set them free thanks to the jungle becoming too dense for them, I would say we should ride as swiftly as possible back to more civilized parts. But, you are the one in charge of this expedition, Javier, not I!” so said Diego, and this time Javier said nothing to counter the man's opinions. Garcia suggested: “There, it seems, are people yet living here, no matter how abandoned and wild things look. I think we should, if we mean to continue forward, do so quickly. I, do not think the people of this place wish for visitors!”
Suddenly, darts shot out from the jungle and narrowly missed hitting members of the expedition. The guards were alerted by this, and looked about them with their eyes wide. Diego shouted: “Move, quick! We're being attacked.” and everyone bolted ahead, as fast as their legs could carry them, whilst a storm of darts shot forth from the trees just beyond everyone's sight. “This is intolerable!” shouted Javier, and Diego rushed forward to catch up to him, as he said to the man in reply: “I told you we should have just turned back! But you are the one in charge, not I. So now we run forward, it seems, rather than back. I am sure that will end well.” He was clearly being sarcastic, but Javier was too frightened to banter with him at present. One of the guides pointed ahead, and everyone followed the path that the man was thus suggesting. The sounds of movement came from the trees all around, and it was difficult to make out in a precise manner just where those sounds were coming from. “They're trying to surround us! And doing a good job of it too.” bellowed the large guard, just before a spear shot forth from a distance away and took him through the left eye, killing him almost instantly. “God damn it!” shouted Diego, as he moved to protect Javier as best as he could. He fired one of his pistols in the direction the spear had come from but if he hit anything or anyone, there was no indication of such an accomplishment. “Fucking disaster, that is what this expedition is!” cursed Diego, whilst Javier said to him: “I have been through far worse scrapes than this.” And both men held their swords at the ready. For like Diego, Javier had kept his own fine blade sheathed at his side for just such an occasion as this. Everyone pressed forward as fast as was possible on such wild, rugged, and partially overgrown trails. Were these animal trails, or ones used by the same inhabitants of this place who were presenting trying to kill them? Diego and Javier could not be certain, and did not care. Garcia kept on praying, as if he might somehow prevail upon God to stop the attack and grant everyone safe passage. Diego shouted over to him: “Garcia, quit your babbling and run faster! And try not to trip over your robe as you do so. God is not going to save us here, I think.” As if on cue, hundreds of people dressed in long crimson tunics emerged from the trees carrying sharp and somewhat odd looking serrated wooden swords. Some carried long spears adorned with feathers, and still others carried crude blowpipes made from reeds with them. They had skin of an almost bronze hue and hair that was long and wild and dark, as dark as were their eyes. Some wore feathered headdresses, and others wore frightful looking wooden masks with grotesque faces painted upon them. They were all shouting in some language no one in the expedition could understand... not even the guides, nor any of the native bearers. It was a language more ancient than anyone had a recollection of, and to hear it thus being uttered in anger was a frightful thing to experience. “They almost look like Aztecs, but I've never heard of Aztecs ranging this far south and this deep into these jungles before!” shouted Garcia, who it seemed was at least somewhat familiar with who these people were and what their boundaries normally consisted of. “Also, they aren't speaking in the usual language for them to be Aztecs.” he added, as if it was time for a scholarly discussion about such things. Javier screamed at the priest: “I don't care if they are Aztecs or not! We need to escape them... they have us grossly outnumbered.” Diego then noticed an odd thing: “They've stopped trying to attack us, though... they're just waiting for us to make a move and to stop running. Almost as if they are afraid of the part of the jungle that we are fleeing towards.” Sure enough, the emergence and halting of these adversaries coincided directly with the moment when all of the members of the expedition who currently remained had crossed with haste into a very dark part of the jungle indeed, one which had none of those huts within it. It was a place wild, dark, and clearly also frightening to those people, whoever they actually were. Once the expedition had reached that place, it was possible at last for everyone to halt in order to catch their breaths. “I do not know if I like the fact that we are now someplace where even they fear to follow us. But at least we are alive!” Diego said as he pat Javier on the back in a friendly manner. As they proceeded deeper and deeper into this uncharted territory, they began to notice the ruins of large walls that once had been put together from large chunks of stone that were quite massive in size. The ruins were covered in thick vines... nature, the final victor.
Soon, there were more than walls, there were structures of varying shapes and sizes, and in a style of a sort that even Javier with all his knowledge and studies could never have hoped to recognize. “None of this looks even remotely like anything the Aztecs or any other of the civilizations of the New World are known to build.” he commented, and Garcia remarked: “Strange, it almost looks like a style that I've seen only once before in the deserts of the regions beyond the Holy Land, when I attempted to do some missionary work in that part of the world, unsuccessfully.” Diego laughed, but said nothing, preferring to think to himself: “Missionary work is a nice, pretty, flowery way of putting it! That bastard, from all I've heard tell, tried to force the Muslims of that region to convert to Christ. Small wonder they did not find such a prospect appealing, given the Church's propensity for using violence as a conversion tactic.” Although himself a Christian, Diego had a great deal of respect for the Muslims and having heard much of Garcia's brutality towards them... he could not help but despise the man. “Didn't the ancients actually use sandstone and mud bricks in their construction, in that part of the world?” asked Javier, learning in to his knowledge to point out the flaw in what Garcia was claiming. Garcia, however, explained: “In a lot of their building projects, yes... yes, they did. But not in all of them! This kind of stone work, I have seen and you can believe me when I say that I saw it precisely where I told you that I did. The people of that region who yet remained there, however, drove me and those with me out of that place due to their zealousness in defending their ancestors' once thriving places. And, their desire to keep faithful to those same ancestors' savage pagan ways.” Diego chuckled, and upon noticing him doing so the priest asked him: “Is something funny to you, Diego, about anything I have just said?” Diego then waved his hand in a nonchalant manner, and said: “Oh, it is nothing Father Garcia! Nothing at all. I... just try to find the humor in everything in life, fret not.” And then for a time the priest and Javier babbled on and on about the historical implications of discovering middle eastern architecture in the New World. The sort of dull conversation, as Diego considered it to be, that could only be of interest to scholars and priests. Slowly and at a steady pace, the expedition party continued through this dark part of the jungle filled with ruins of a very decidedly distinctive sort that should not have been there at all... until, they soon arrived at the remains of a gargantuan step pyramid. On the top of the pyramid sat a round structure topped with some kind of a dome, all of it made of stone but carved much smoother than the other ruins all around. Oddly this particular structure atop that pyramid looked unmistakably Roman, with elegant columns and that sort of classical design that simply should not have been in this particular part of the world at all. Right when Garcia noticed this, he made the sign of the cross and exclaimed: “Mother of God! That temple at the top of the pyramid... it is Roman! But there is not a single historical record known to the Church, of the ancient Romans ever reaching this far afield from the boundaries of their empire.” Diego wanted to say something sarcastic just to ruin the priest's big dramatic moment, but he kept whatever he was just about to say to himself. Javier whistled in amazement, and declared: “Perhaps what we have been long in search of can be found within that temple!” before asking Garcia: “But, who do you think should be the first of us to enter it and find out? It could be very dangerous.” Diego then raised his hand and said: “I will do it. I am getting on in the years, and I must admit I have had a pretty good life all concerned. Besides, if something terrible happens to me given all I have survived over the years, then you know it is time to get the hell out of this place and never look back.” Garcia agreed that Diego should indeed be the one to check out the temple... but, he demanded that the adventurer bring a guide along with him so that he might not be going in totally alone. No one argued the point, and without any further planning or consideration of other possibilities... Diego and the guide accompanying him climbed carefully up the steps of the monstrous pyramid, soon reaching the top without any incident. The temple entrance was a square archway flanked by statues that... unlike the Roman style of the temple itself... were very much in a style more consistent with the peoples of this particular part of the world. They appeared to depict some kind of creatures with squat and bestial bodies, grotesquely skeletal faces, and wild manes of hair.
The guide trembled upon seeing the statues, and warned Diego: “I know these depictions! They mean to warn of death, and to keep the unwary from entering a place of great danger.” The man was normally a calm fellow, and it was not as if he was unarmed himself. The guide carried with him, a sword lent to him by one of the guards, and although he was dressed lightly in a long white tunic with a rope-like belt tied about his waist and leather sandals upon his otherwise bare feet... it was practical attire, given how sweltering was the heat of the jungle during this time of the year. The short sleeves of the tunic were a bit discolored from sweat, however, though the guide was not concerned about his appearance. He was a weathered looking man without a single hair on his body save for his bushy black eyebrows and thick eyelashes. Of all their guides, this man had been the most capable and steadfast. If he was nervous, then there was good cause to be cautious! Diego leaned forward to peer into the temple, but it was too black and dark within its' confines for anything to be made out at all. The guide lit a torch and handed it to the adventurer, who used it to have a better look. Inside the temple was an empty chamber save for a pit set into the floor that appeared to contain a spiral stairwell leading downward into the pyramid itself. The dome's interior was covered in Roman frescoes that depicted the life of Christ, as if this was a church of some sort. Yet in so far as anyone knew, Christianity had never reached this wild place and Diego had a certainty that Father Garcia would not even know what to make of this discovery. It was not entirely an inconceivable notion, that a group of ancient Roman Christians could have somehow journeyed to this part of the world and attempted to establish a church here... and none of the tales of this lost city had a single one that claimed to know with certainty exactly when the city had been established or by who. So it was not that this was totally outside the realm of human possibility! It was, rather, simply that it felt so very out of place. The guide waited with a second torch at the top of the stairwell, whilst Diego had a mind to go down it. He then suggested that the guide wait outside so that his torch would not go out if Diego took a while. Finding this a rational suggestion, the guide went outside and sat down to wait. In the meantime, Diego... his own torch well in hand... descended into the very bowels of the pyramid. As he made his way down the old stone stairwell, he could not help but feel as if he was journeying down and deeply into the very open mouth of Hell itself. After some time, the stairs ended before an archway much like the square archway of the temple up above. Passing through it, the adventurer noticed that he was now within a huge square chamber that likely was at the pyramid's lowest level. Elegant columns lined the chamber walls, and in the middle of the room was a raised, circular pool of water that had the look of an enshrined natural spring to it. Surrounding the pool itself was a specific series of very long, thin shafts that had been cut deeply into the floor. Water bubbled up from the spring like a fountain, and the excess that bubbled over poured down into the shafts to keep the chamber from ever flooding. Very clearly, someone had put a lot of thought into how this was all going to work. Surrounding the fountain were five statues exactly like the ones flanking the entrance to the temple... only these had wings. And bodies covered in eyes. “Such frightful angels guard this sacred place!” exclaimed Diego aloud, letting his thoughts be given voice audibly. The walls had once been covered in murals and frescoes, but time had taken its' toll and nothing of the details of what they once depicted could be made out. The air was hot and humid, and moisture dripped in places from the ceiling. Most disturbingly, however, was how surrounding the fountain and the statues on all sides were heaps of human bones... the remains of those who had come in search of this place previously. Some remains were more recent than others, and so it was that a few were in varying states of decay. Naturally, the smell was nauseating. Oddly, none of the dead people appeared to have died by violence, judging by the state of their remains... it was as if they had simply died in this place after laying down to sleep. That, Diego did not like! Because it made less sense even than everything else so far had. He reached out a finger to touch the water of the fountain... and it was not hot to the touch but rather cool. He had been expecting it to be scalding hot, since that was typically the sort of spring you'd find where the water was bubbling up from below like it was here.
He thought he would have to pull his hand away immediately, yet there was no need for such concern. “Should I taste of it, to learn if it is poisonous somehow?” he mused silently, coming to a the very likely conclusion, that the people who died had to have died after making contact with the fountain somehow. Since the water itself was not deadly, perhaps something it contained was deadly if one drank of it! He knew better than to go back, fetch the guide, and force him to drink from the fountain. “Even if I was a cruel man, that would be wrong, and God would surely punish me for such a deed.” he reasoned, and as hard as it was he knew it was for the best to drink from the fountain himself. “I shall either be younger, after this... or I will be dead.” he said aloud, with a chuckle as he braced himself for what he intended to do. He had so far faced perils of the sort that most men would have shied away from if they were sane, and he had journeyed clear across the world form his native Spain in search of adventure. In search of... whatever this truly was that he had discovered in this place. Yet, he felt fear in the presence of a simple fountain of water. He glanced down at the bones at his feet, and he knew there was a danger here. Even if he could not fathom what the danger actually was. Suddenly, Garcia came rushing up behind him, his voice echoing through the chamber as he declared: “I see you have found it, Diego! This surely has to be the legendary Fountain of Youth. Go ahead... drink of it. If God is with you, you have nothing truly to fear.” Garcia was holding a torch in his hand, his eyes wide and wild looking as he gazed about the chamber awestruck. “Oh, but you should really go first Father Garcia! I mean, sure you may be young, but the worst thing the fountain might do is make you a lad once again. You'd have more than a report to tell your masters in the Church then... you'd be the living proof that the legend is true.” Diego thus said unto the priest, who actually did consider it for a moment, it appeared, before stating: “And if I die as a consequence... then who shall tell the Church that this is not the fountain men have believed that it was? I doubt those I am in the employ of, would believe a single word you might tell them even if you somehow gained an audience with them. No, I still firmly maintain that you should partake of it, not I!” And Father Garcia began to pray as he paced about the chamber. Annoyed and knowing he could not at all hope to win this argument, Diego calmly said: “Fine! I will do it... I, am the older one, the one most in need of the fountain's blessing if indeed it can grant a person such a thing. As you said, if God is with me and in good spirits this day then all shall be well. If not... well, I just hope you do not leave me here with the others who tried this before me. I have many mistresses in many countries who would be very put out if they could not visit my final resting place.” And the priest promised: “If you perish, I myself shall bear your body from this place and see to it that your bones are returned to Spain for proper burial. You have my word, as a man of God, that it shall be so!” Diego then winked and said: “I will take my chances with God and the fountain, then. For I trust them more than I do you, priest.” Without choosing to put it off any further, Diego learned in and drank from the fountain. The taste was surprisingly sweet, for spring water... and it tingled somewhat going down his throat. He drank several more mouthfuls just to be certain he had enough for a man his age... and then he backed away from the fountain. “Strange, it does not seem to do much of anything at all either way.” the adventurer said, shrugging his shoulders. It was disappointing! He had expected either to die on the spot or be made younger. Instead, the water had no special properties to it at all, that he could notice. Garcia then walked forward and followed suit, he himself drinking considerably less than Diego had. But no sooner than Garcia had done so, than he did let out an agonizing cry as his body was wracked by convulsions and apparent seizures. He clutched at his throat, dropping his torch unto the floor, where it went out the moment it hit. His eyes bulged in the most grotesque manner imaginable, and in the dim light of his own torch Diego could only gaze in dark horror whilst the priest's face appeared to become first sunken and then swiftly skeletal in appearance as he aged far beyond countless decades in but a brief moment... causing him to fall to the ground and die, on the spot. To look at him, one would think only the he had been an impossibly old man who had laid down to die, perhaps in his sleep, at the last. Yet, seemingly, Diego had been unaffected by the fountain.
He kicked Father Garcia's corpse to make certain the man was dead, and it was indeed true... all that he had just witnessed, truly had happened. “If it did that to him... what did it do to me?” wondered the adventurer, as he sat down for a moment to gather his thoughts. Suddenly, he felt overcome with a great weariness, and a desire to fall asleep. Before he could consider any other course of action, he fainted to the ground, and fell into a deep slumber, his torch falling into the fountain where its' light was by those waters extinguished. He did not dream, so far as he would ever be able to recall of what befell him after the priest's horrific death... and for a time he was in such utter blackness and darkness that he could not be certain either if he had actually opened his eyes or if he was still on the floor of the fountain chamber passed out in that awful, dreamless slumber that he had fallen into. He had no sarcastic words to say on this occasion, no thoughts in need of voicing beyond a primal desire simply to survive at all costs. Now that he had no means of illumination... he would need to find his way back to the stairs, and try to climb his way back up to the temple. Once there, he could escape the pyramid and return to the expedition. Ah but he felt so strange! He was naked... and his clothes lay scattered all about nearby. Why, would that be so! Had someone attempted to rob him whilst he was unconscious? He fumbled in the dark until he did find his sword, and he realized as he attempted to lift it, that he was simply too weak to. The blade was also a little bit larger than he remembered it being. His clothes were all bigger than he recalled them as being, as well, and they were so poorly fitting that the most he could manage with them was to put his shirt back on and wear it as a kind of makeshift tunic. “Have I shrunk in size? Oh God! No... this, this is impossible. The fountain did work after all. I am...” and he realized then what had befallen him, and he knew in that instant that he had indeed drank a little too much of the fountain's waters. He cried out, and his voice was no longer as it had been either! “I need to escape from this place as soon as I can... it is too dangerous for me to remain here, especially now that I am... like this.” he mused, and like as not he would have to find his way in the pitch black and hope for the best. He knew that the others back in the expedition would never recognize him, never believe his story. He had to come up with something, anything, to tell them! It would take a bit to get back, so he had time to think as he made his way back into the light once more. “Keep this place's true power a secret, Diego!” a woman's voice so called out from the direction of the fountain after he had managed to reach the base of the stairwell. “It is not truly meant for this world, after all.” she whispered. For that voice spoke in a hissing sort of whisper. Diego called out to the woman, or whatever it actually was that spoke to him in the blackness, saying: “Then take the fountain away from this world, so no one need ever die or be tempted to claim its' power again. What... what can I expect in the years to come?” All went silent, and the adventurer thought perhaps he had gone insane and that no one actually was speaking to him, and that the voice was in his head. Until the voice returned, and it came from right in front of him this time... there was a presence there, and it was something dreadful and terrifying. It said unto him, in the same hissing voice as previously: “You can expect a life far exceeding that of all others, and it would not be false to claim that you will live to witness futures the present generation can only dream of. Go forth! I will indeed take the fountain back with me whence both it and I came ere we were entrapped here. Those who did that deed are dust, and there is no longer anything to keep us here. Not now that you have claimed the fountain's power and in doing so made it your own. It holds no further power for mortals, none save death. For only one may in due course claim the eternal life that it held up until today. The fountain chose you, Diego! Never forget that it chose you.” And throughout all the generations to come, Diego Cruz would never once allow his mind to forget... even amid a future of infinite distractions... that he had been thus chosen. He reached his hand out to touch whatever it was that stood before him, his mind clear of all thoughts and his will stronger than iron. He had survived much, and there was no need to be afraid of the unknown anymore. She had reached out to him... he had to know what she was. He had to know that she was real! And not a figment of a mind on the verge of madness. “Forgive me, lady! But... I must know, that you are real.”
Javier had almost given Father Garcia and Diego up for dead once night fell and camp had to be set up for the evening. Everyone in the expedition was present and accounted for, except for those two. Oh, of course that is not counting all those who perished during the course of this dismal adventure. And, to Javier it had been dismal indeed! “Do you think he is dead?” one of the men asked Javier, but he had no way of knowing one way or another. “Who, Diego? No! Somehow, I just cannot see him perishing with not first giving a terrible fight to whatever sought to claim his life. If you mean Father Garcia... I am of half a mind to wonder if he and Diego did not kill each other. Perhaps we should send someone to find out what happened to the two of them.” suggested Javier, but no one was eager to volunteer for such a task. Suddenly, one of the guards that walked the circumference of the camp site called out: “Javier! I just spotted someone approaching camp from the direction of the pyramid. It looks like a little child of some kind.” Javier rushed over to have a look for himself, and sure enough a child of about ten years of age approached the camp, wearing Diego's shirt like a tunic. It was impossible to tell if the child was a boy or a girl, and when the youth spoke it was with a light, lilting, melodic sounding voice. The child so said unto Javier once it stood within the man's presence: “The man you call Diego and the man you call Father Garcia are both dead. They fought over who should drink from the Fountain of Youth, and were in the end victims of their own basest greed. I was a part of a past expedition to find the fountain, along with my parents, and everyone in our party had perished in the jungle except for me. I have been living in the pyramid, ever since! To his credit, before succumbing to his greed, Diego found my hiding place and was willing to take me back to Spain with him and so keep me as his own child. He said if anything should befall him, then I should hold a man named Javier to keep his promise, in his stead. For, he told me that Javier is a man of honor, as well as a good friend.” And, the young man named Javier regarded the small child kindly, and promised the youth: “I am Javier! And I am indeed a man of honor just as it was that Diego had told you. I will accept you into my home and treat you like my own child, if it so be Diego's last wishes that I should do so. But pray, tell me your name! Unless you should wish for me to come with a name for you, if by chance through your ordeal you have forgotten your original one.” And the child said with a warm smile playing upon its' face: “My name is Avila. That is all I remember of it, having forgotten the names of my parents following their deaths.” Javier then put an arm around Avila, and told the child: “That is fine! Since, henceforth, you are to be my own child, your last name shall be the same as mine. We will remain encamped here for the night, and on the morrow we will send people down into the pyramid to retrieve Diego's and Garcia's bodies. After all, we cannot leave them to rot in this hellish jungle. I take it, then, that the fountain held no real power when all is said and done?” And, Avila stared intently into Javier's eyes as the youth stated: “If it had any power at all, it was a power as only death could wield.” And that was when Javier realized that this child was far too mature for such a young age. It was decided that the child should share Javier's tent, and the two slept in each other's arms throughout the night, which was how Javier came to discover that Avila was a hermaphrodite. Strangely a sudden lethargy came over all of the camp's guards... and ere long there was no one left awake to keep watch any longer. When dawn came, and the sun's light managed with great difficulty to shine down to the campsite where it sat within that darkest of all jungles... everyone who awakened noticed with much shock that there were no ruins present of any kind, no pyramid either. Just a dense jungle wherein there was not a single trace of any presence of humanity to be seen. This was nature's domain, and it held in it nothing for civilized people. Had it not been for the presence of the child, Avila, Javier would have very likely thought the whole thing had been some sort of mad dream, and that Diego and Father Garcia had instead simply run away. But Avila told him: “You dreamed nothing, Javier! There was something else, something not of this world, that lived in the pyramid with me. You could say... it was the keeper of the fountain. It said that the fountain was not of this world, and that it planned to take it away forever. So... it was true to its' word.” Following that... Javier's expedition returned to Spain. Never to set forth again.
Published 8th Dec 2023
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11th Dec 2023 12:22pm
Hi Kara, you could actually flesh this in short story. Even a novelette. I always enjoy reading you:)
16th Dec 2023 7:46pm
Hey there, Grace! Wonderful to hear from you, as always. I probably could have turned this into a whole multi part epic cycle actually, but I was more going for just a short supernatural adventure tale with a bit of a similar vibe to some of the old classic "weird tales" type of pulp adventure stories... but with an unusual surprise twist at the end. I've always had a fondness for those style of stories, and it was fun writing something with that style and feel to it. That it makes the reader long for more tells me it turned out even better than I had hoped it would! I never tire of writing new things, and it very much pleases me that you (and others of course) enjoy reading my works. *Smiles* :)
