Cibola by David Wood
A Dane Maddock Adventure
Copyright 2009 by David Wood
Smashwords Edition
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Advance Praise for David Wood’s Cibola
"Ancient cave paintings? Cities of gold? Secret scrolls? Sign me up! Cibola is a twisty tale of adventure and intrigue that never lets up and never lets go!" Robert Masello, author of Blood and Ice, Vigil, and Bestiary
"With the thoroughly enjoyable way Mr. Wood has mixed speculative history with our modern day pursuit of truth, he has created a story that thrills and makes one think beyond the boundaries of mere fiction and enter the world of 'why not'? Cibola is a worthy tale!" David Lynn Golemon, Author of Primeval and Leviathan
"Cibola by David Wood is a page-turning yarn blending high action, Biblical speculation, ancient secrets, and nasty creatures. Indiana Jones better watch his back!" Jeremy Robinson, author of Threshold and Antarktos Rising
“History is turned on its head in this gripping tale of sects, secrets, and double-crosses. Wood spins a yarn that keeps the pages turning.” Alan Baxter, author of RealmShift and MageSign
Works by David Wood
The Dane Maddock Adventures
Dourado
Cibola
Quest (Forthcoming)
Stand-Alone Novels
Into the Woods
The Zombie-Driven Life
David Wood Writing as David Debord
The Silver Serpent
Keeper of the Mists
For my father David, who always believed I was a writer.
Prologue
April 11, 1539
Fray Marcos de Niza muffled a curse as he dragged his shirtsleeve across the still-wet ink. He pushed the offending piece of fabric up to his elbow and surveyed the damage. Only a smear in the upper left corner. Nothing too grave. That ought to teach him to blot with better care.
Sighing, he turned away from the log book and refilled his cup. He held the bottle up to the light and swirled it around, looking mournfully at the very last of his wine. Three fingers, no more. Hopefully, something of a decent vintage would soon arrive at this remote outpost civilization had forgotten. He reflected on his fall from grace, and hoped that word of it had not reached his family back home. He wondered if his father still lived. If so, he hoped his father had not heard tell of what he had done. If only he could tell him the truth. If only he could tell the world the truth. If so, he would not have been sent to this place to do nothing of value. Oh, they promised him he would return to Mexico some day, when he was no longer “needed” here. It was probably true. Whenever Coronado forgave him, he would be permitted to come slinking back, tail between his legs.
Had it all been worth it? Of course it had. There were too many reasons that what he had discovered could not come to light. The truth of it alone might do the church irreparable harm. It had even shaken his faith, strong as it was. There was a greater reason, though. Who could be trusted with such power? Certainly not Coronado. Not the king, not even the Pope. Perhaps no one.
But was it right and proper for him to hide this secret for eternity? He was confident that he and Estevanico alone knew the true story. He had removed the sole written record of it from the library in which he had found it, and the final key was in Estevanico’s hands… at least for now.
No. He could not let it die with him. It was not his secret to keep. This was God’s secret, to be revealed in His time to the man of His choosing. Marcos would continue with the plan that had been laid upon his heart. He would leave a single clue for the world. If God wanted it to be found, it would be found. If not… well, it was in His hands. Marcos returned to his journal.
…I know that what I do is wrong in the eyes of the king, but I believe that it is good and proper in the eyes of God. Some secrets are meant to remain just that. I have seen the horrors wrought by my countrymen upon this innocent land. I shudder to think of the consequences if such power should fall into their hands. I do not fear for myself. They accepted wholeheartedly the tale I have spun, and only two of us remain alive who know the truth, though the second is believed by them to be dead. At least, I hope he is still alive, and he lives to complete his task. I know that it is foolish of me to record these thoughts, but I feel that I must write them down, reflect upon them. I know the secret is safe.
Yet I find that I cannot bear to hide this secret from humankind. It is too terrible to reveal, but too precious to bury. I have prayed and searched the scripture for guidance, and I have received an answer. God Almighty willing, the day shall come when this secret comes to light. Only the chosen servant shall decipher the clues I and my faithful companion leave behind. He must begin by searching the depths of the well of the soul…
Sun-on-Lizard ducked down behind the stone outcropping and peered out upon the moonlit landscape. Silver light illumined the rocky plain, casting all in a ghostly glow beneath the blanket of darkness. It was a night for spirits.
The sound came again, much closer now. One less experienced might have missed the faint brush of foot on rock. Someone was moving almost silently through the night. It was possible that whoever it was meant no harm, but he would not take any unnecessary risks. Finding a comfortable position, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet, he settled in to wait. Patience, his grandfather had said, was a good thing, and Sun-on-Lizard had plenty.
With great care he lay the two small rabbits on the ground; a poor fare for an overlong hunting trip. He had been foolish to stay out so late. He did not fear the coyotes, but they could be more than an annoyance in this land where even the meanest game was hard won. And if the stories could be believed, there was more to be feared in this particular place. Slipping his short bow from his belt, he strung it with a practiced ease. Three arrows remained in his quiver, but he let them stay there. Should the need arise, he could put an arrow in the air faster than anyone he had ever met.
He stared up at the velvet blanket of the night sky, sprinkled with stars and washed in pale moon glow. He had grown up with stories of the star pictures, and the stories of the ancient ones in the sky. His brother, Sits-at-Fire, had always been fascinated with the lore, but he had no interest in such things. He believed in the earth beneath his feet, the bow in his hand, and the challenge of the hunt. He respected his adversaries, even the small rabbit, and appreciated a resourceful quarry. He always thanked the game that fell to his bow for providing him with food and clothing. Yes, there were enough things of this earth to contemplate that he need not concern himself with things of the sky.
Once again the shuffling sound whispered across the rocky landscape, and a glint of silver caught his eye. A dark figure appeared from behind a distant rock formation, moonlight outlining his dark form. Another figure emerged, and then a third. Sun-on-Lizard sucked his breath in between his front teeth, and he narrowed his eyes. It could not be! As the figures drew closer, he saw that he had been right. They had the heads, arms and legs of men, but their bodies were covered in snake scales! His left hand tightened around his bow, and he grasped an arrow in his right. Could such creatures be killed? Suddenly wishing he had listened to more of the elder’s fireside tales, he hunched as low as he could without obscuring his vision. He willed himself to be a shadow, a dark patch on the night landscape.
A vagrant breeze, cool and dry, wafted toward him. He inhaled deeply, but caught no odd scent. Of course, the snake had no scent of which he was aware. At least he was downwind of the strange creatures. They moved closer, and with each approaching step his heart pounded faster. Blood coursed through him, the vein in his temple pulsating with every beat of his heart. They were coming right at him. He would fight them if he must. There were three of them, and he had three arrows. He made up his mind that he would aim for their heads. That part of them, at least, appeared human, and as vulnerable as his own. It was only the serpentine scales that made them look unassailable.
He nocked his first arrow and drew it halfway. He was about to spring up and fire when the three suddenly veered from their path, the one in the lead gesturing toward a particularly bright star. They headed off to his right, to the north. As they made their way, Sun-on-Lizard had a good view of the snake men, and what he saw made him grin.
They were not beasts, but men. Men wearing the hard, silver vests of which he had heard tell. The same clothing worn by the fabled outlanders with their cloud-white faces and thunder sticks. Another story he had never believed. Sun-on-Lizard had traveled farther than anyone in his village, down to the red rocks and up to the great salt water, and he had never seen a man with a white face and a stick that made fire. Of course, he had not seen their silver vests before today, either. It struck him as more than passing strange that the men he saw were not white-faced, but dark. It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but the first two looked to be of the Dineh, as they called themselves, or perhaps some other southern tribe. The third man, though, was a head taller than the others, and as dark as night. So dark, in fact that his head seemed to vanish when he passed through the darkest shadows. Sun-on-Lizard had never seen such a man. When they were almost out of sight, he made up his mind to follow them. He had to know more.
Sun-on-Lizard rolled the pebble around in his mouth, trying to stave off thirst with the cool, round stone. Two nights and two days had told him precious little about his quarry. He was quite proud of himself that he had avoided detection during that time. He kept his distance in the daytime, remaining just out of sight, and relying on his tracking skills to keep him on the proper path. Twice he feared he had lost them, but in each instance a small sign reassured him. He had sharp eyes, and could find a scuff on a dusty stone, or a pebble pressed into the sand by the soft tread of one trying not to leave a trail. He had to admit, the Dineh moved well, as did the dark fellow. From one that size, he would have counted on more than the occasional marking to indicate his passage.
It was full dark now, and he lay secreted within a rock fall surmounted by scrub brush. The rabbits were long gone, roasted over a banked and shielded fire the night before. He had eaten a bit of dried meat before creeping up on the others’ camp. A discontented stomach could make all his stealth for naught. Reclining on his left elbow, he peered out from his hiding place at the strange trio of men. Or at the strange duo, rather. The dark fellow was gone. Careful not to move too hastily, he scanned the area around his hiding place, but saw nothing.
He focused all his senses on the two men seated at the tiny fire. They had stripped off their serpentine vests, and now looked much less sinister in their native garb. The one on the left, a squat, muscular fellow with a scarred face and shaggy black hair was roasting lizard tail skewered on a long, sharpened stick. The other, equally short, but with a leaner build and a raptor-like face, sat with his knees against his chest, and his hands clasped together. They were speaking softly, but he could not make out the words. Of course, he spoke very little of their tongue.
A sound behind him caught his ear, and he whipped his head around, his hand going to his knife. The dark man stood behind him, a long knife at the ready. His smile shone in the darkness, and his eyes caught the starlight like dark pools. Sun-on-Lizard saw no threat in the man’s countenance, but he did not doubt that the fellow could and would kill him if he so chose. He had the high ground and the better weapon. If Sun-on-Lizard were in the clear, he might be able to throw his knife at the man and get away, but not lying here within a tangle of brush. He spat the pebble from his mouth.
“You track well,” he said to the big man, not that the fellow would speak his tongue. “You leave little sign with your passing, and I did not hear you coming up behind me.”
“I thank you for the compliment,” the man said in a rich voice, deep like the bottom of a canyon. “You are not without skill yourself. My name is Estevanico. Put away the knife and come sit by my fire.” He leaned down and proffered an ebony hand.
It took Sun-on-Lizard a moment to recover from the shock of the strange fellow speaking his language. “I suppose you would have already killed me if that was your intention,” he said, sheathing his knife and grasping the man’s hand in his.
Estevanico hoisted him to his feet as if he was a child. The big man regarded Sun-on-Lizard with big, brown eyes for a long, silent moment before answering. “That remains to be seen.”
Chapter 1
Jade tapped on the dive light strapped to her forehead. The beam flickered again, and then shone at full strength. Shoddy university equipment. Drifting back to the wall, careful not to disturb the fine layer of silt that coated the floor of the subterranean cavern, she again ran her fingers across the striations in the rock. They were definitely man-made. Much too regular to be natural, and this part of the wall appeared smooth and level underneath the coating of plant life and debris that had accumulated over a half-millennia. She scrubbed her gloved fingertips harder against the rock, instinctively turning her head away from the cloud of matter that engulfed her.
Turning again to inspect the spot she had cleared, she waited with heart-pounding anticipation for the sluggish, almost non-existent current to clear her line of sight. With painstaking slowness, the haze cleared away, and her eyes widened. It was a joint, where precisely-hewn stones fitted neatly together. She could see the vertical lines where the blocks met end-to end. She scrubbed away another patch, revealing more worked stone.
Raising her head, she let her eyes follow the beam of light as it climbed the wall. About six feet above her head, the regular pattern of the ancient stones gave way to a rough jumble of broken rock and tangled roots. It was a collapsed well, just as she had believed she would find. Remarkably, the web of thick roots created a ceiling of sorts, preserving this bottom section almost intact. She made a circuit around the base, inspecting the rocks. They appeared to be solid, with no apparent danger of further collapse. Nonetheless, she grew increasingly aware of the mass of stone directly above her. It had obviously been in place for hundreds of years, but the thought of loose stone filling the shaft of a well made her feel distinctly vulnerable.
She checked her dive watch and was disappointed to see that she had exhausted her allotted time. She had carefully planned her exploration so that she would have time to return, plus two minutes, giving her as much time as possible to seek out the well.
Reorienting herself toward the upstream channel, she kicked out and felt resistance, like something tugging at her from behind. Cautiously she again tried to swim forward, and again she felt something pull her back. She was an experienced diver, and knew that she needed to move slowly and remain calm. A sudden movement could tangle her further, or worse, tear a hose loose. She turned her head back and forth, seeking out the obstruction, but to no avail. Whatever she had snagged was directly behind her. Reaching back, she felt for the obstruction but found nothing. A moment’s irrational fear rose up inside of her, but she quelled it almost immediately. She had to approach this rationally.
Reaching behind her head she ran her hands along the surface of her breathing apparatus, and soon found the obstruction. A root was wedged between her twin tanks. What were the odds? She tried moving backward, then from side-to-side, but to no avail. She freed her dive knife and tried to saw at the obtrusion, but it proved ineffective against the gnarled root. Besides, it was nigh impossible to accomplish anything while working blindly behind her back. She would have to unstrap her tanks and free them from the obstruction. The thought frightened her a little, but she had practiced the maneuver as part of her training. She again looked at her watch, and realized she was now well past time to be done.
Her heart thundered and her pulse surged. Stay calm, Jade, she reminded herself. Panic led to unnecessarily heavy breathing, which led to faster oxygen consumption which led to… Stop it! None of it mattered right now. She would work the tank free, and then she would make up the lost time on the return swim. Yes, that would work.
Taking two calming breaths, she methodically unbuckled the straps holding her tanks, and slipped free. With a last breath of sweet air, she took her mouth from the mouthpiece. Holding her breath and keeping a firm grip on the tanks, she turned about in the tight space. A few deft tugs and it was free. Putting the gear back on was awkward in the dark, confined space, but she managed nicely, and was soon breathing the blessed air again. No time to pat herself on the back, though.
She set out at a rapid clip up the dark, narrow channel, swimming against the current, and what had seemed like a lethargic flow of water now seemed to be putting up serious resistance. Particles of silt and bits of vegetation flew past her face as she shot recklessly up the channel. She passed through a twisting section a little too carelessly and scraped her shoulder against the edge. She felt her neoprene suit tear, but under the present circumstances that was no great concern.
She wondered if Saul knew something was amiss. Did he even know how long she had been gone, or when she should have returned? Probably not. He was not a diver. Great. No one to send in the posse. When I get out of here, I’m finding a dive partner.
The ceiling was low at this point, and her tank banged against a low-hanging rock. She kept going, certain that the distance had not been so great on the way in. What if I’ve missed the way out? What if I’ve gone too far? Panic again threatened to seize control, but she forced it down. She remembered this low spot: it was about the halfway mark. Halfway! Down to the dregs of her tank, and she was only halfway.
Her legs pumped like pistons, her cupped hands pulled at the water as if she were dragging herself through sand. She tried holding her breath for longer periods, but soon gave up on the idea. Her body needed oxygen that was no longer there. Her muscles burned, and the rushing of blood in her veins was now an audible roar. She tasted copper in her mouth, and her lungs strained against invisible bonds. Shadows appeared around the perimeter of her vision, and slowly crept inward. She was going to die.
Still biting down on her mouthpiece, she screamed in mute frustration. She tried to fight, but her desperate flailing and kicking quickly subsided as darkness consumed her. She released her bite on her useless air supply, and surrendered. As consciousness faded, she saw a light coming toward her.
What do you know? All the stories are true. She watched with detached awareness as the light grew brighter. She was drifting up to heaven… or wherever. The glare grew intensely bright, and then she could have sworn she felt arms around her. An angel has come to take me to heaven… A sudden tightness encircled her middle, pinning her arms to her sides, and before she knew what was happening, something was forced into her mouth. She tried to protest, and cool, sweet air poured into her lungs. A coughing fit immediately ensued. She had taken more than a bit of water into her mouth, and now it felt like all of it was in her lungs. She tried to twist free, but whatever it was held her tight.
Instinct took over, and she gradually regained control of her lungs, and spat the water free. With the fresh flow of oxygen came a renewed sense of calm and awareness. Someone had come to her rescue after all. He was holding her tight so that she would not, in her panic, drown both of them. She took few long, calming breaths from the pony tank her rescuer was holding in his right hand. At least, she hoped those thickly muscled forearms belonged to a he. Making a point to keep her body as relaxed as possible, she slipped her right arm down, and tapped him twice on the thigh. His grip relaxed a touch, and she raised her hand and she circled her thumb and forefinger to make the “OK” sign. He slid the mini-tank into her hand, and let go of her.
Turning to face her rescuer, she saw that it was indeed a he, but other than his blond hair, she could not tell anything about him. Giving him a nod and a quick wave of thanks, she led the way back up the channel. She could not believe how close she had come to dying. What’s more, she could not believe someone had rescued her.
Relief gave way to embarrassment and anger as she neared safety. She couldn’t believe how her own bad judgment had almost killed her. Stupid! She was a professional, not some weekend scuba diver. This guy, whoever he was, probably thought she was one of the dozen grad school bimbos working the dig aboveground. She was going to beat herself up over this for a long time.
The glow of sunlight flickered in the distance, and soon she was up the shaft, and breaking the surface. Strong hands grabbed her under the arms and lifted her free of the water. Her feet touched ground, and then she dropped down hard on her backside.
“Why were you down for so long?” Saul rounded on her, his square face marred by concern. “What happened in there? Are you trying to kill yourself? Because you nearly killed me from worry. Do I need to take up diving so I can keep an eye on you?”
“I’m fine, Saul. Really I am.” She shrugged off her tanks and grinned, reaching up to pat his short, neatly coiffed brown hair like she would a faithful pet. “Thank you for sending someone for me. I was wondering if you had even noticed.” She didn’t catch his reply because her attention was focused on her rescuer, who was clambering out of the water.
He wasn’t the tallest fellow, not quite six feet, even with the spiky blond hair, which was already sticking up as it dried in the hot Argentinean sun. He pulled off his dive mask to reveal a lightly tanned face, a friendly smile, and intense blue-gray eyes. Jade smiled back, taking a moment to admire the thickly muscled legs. The guy wasn’t the type she usually went for, but he was definitely cute. He took a step toward her, and she hauled herself to her feet to greet him, but Saul was quicker.
“Thank you again for helping us.” Saul stepped between them, clasping the man’s hand in both of his. “She had been down for so long, and I always tell her she takes too many unnecessary risks. Thinks she’s immortal, she does.” He suddenly seemed to realize that he was still shaking hands with the fellow, and let go.
“It’s quite all right.”
She liked his voice. It was cheerful yet firm, and had a rich timbre, like one of those guys who reads audio books. What was she thinking about? She hadn’t even spoken to the guy and already she was mentally babbling.
“I’m just glad I was nearby. It was a close thing getting her out of there.”
Saul was about to say more, but Jade pushed him to the side and offered her hand.
“Thank you so much for your help, Mister…”
“Maddock,” he replied, looking her directly in the eye. “Dane Maddock. And you’re welcome.”
“I’m just so embarrassed that I let myself run out of air like that. I’m really an experienced diver. I just pushed it a little too far.” She stopped, realizing she was on the verge of babbling for real. He was still looking her in the eye, though, which scored him a few points in her book. Most guys would have let their gaze drift a little lower by now.
“You know what they say,” he replied, waggling his finger like a grade school teacher. “One third of your air going in, one third going back out…” He was grinning ear-to-ear.
“…and one third in reserve in case of an emergency, one of which I did arise. I’m well aware of the rule of thirds, Mr. Maddock. I just…” she felt her face grow warm. “I just didn’t follow them this time.” She wanted to be annoyed at his condescension, but his grin told her he was only joking.
“Understood. I would tell you to call me Dane, but I still don’t even know your name.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Jade Ihara.”
“A beautiful name. “You don’t have a Japanese accent.”
“My father was Japanese,” she said. “My mother is Hawaiian. I was raised on Oahu.”
“Well, that explains it.” He cupped his chin and looked thoughtfully into her eyes. “I was trying to figure it out, but I couldn’t place it.”
“Explains what, may I ask?” She resisted the urge to squirm like a schoolgirl under his cool gaze.
“You have the traditional Japanese beauty, with just a touch of the robust splendor of Polynesia.”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or totally creeped out.” He had her laughing—another point in his favor. “Where did you get that line about ‘robust splendor of Polynesia’ anyway?”
“From a coffee commercial,” he said, grinning.
“So, what are you anyway? Some kind of professional ‘damsel in distress’ rescuer or something?”
“I’m a marine archaeologist,” he said. “We were working nearby. The discovery of this outpost has been a great opportunity for us.”
Saul cleared his throat loudly, reminding them of his presence. He stood with hands on hips, tapping his foot. His mouth was twisted in a sour frown.
“Saul, if you will please pack up my equipment, I’ll be with you in a moment.” She cut off his protest with a raised hand. “Thank you, Saul. I’ll join you shortly.” She met his stare with a level gaze until he turned away, muttering something under his breath. He snatched up her dive gear and stamped off through the tangled growth. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning back to Dane. “Saul is very protective of me. He means well.”
“Not your boyfriend, I hope.”
“No, he’s definitely not my boyfriend. He’s my assistant.” That was technically true, she supposed.
“Well, I need to get going,” Dane said. “By the way, did your mother ever teach you about the old Hawaiian tradition? When someone saves your life, you have to have dinner on his boat that evening.” He made a show of checking the time on his dive watch. “At exactly 18:00 hours. Give or take a few minutes, of course.”
“Is that so?” She really didn’t have time to socialize with this, or any guy. But he had saved her life. Besides, an idea was forming in the back of her mind. “Who am I to flout tradition? Six o’clock it is. I’ll need directions to this boat of yours.” What was she getting herself into? “And Dane? Dinner had better be spectacular.”
Chapter 2
Man, I cannot believe you’re kicking us out,” Matt Barnaby, Dane’s engineer and first mate for this expedition while his partner Bones was on vacation, complained as he swung his leg over the side of their boat, the Sea Foam. “And for a girl of all things.” He shook his head, turned, and hopped into the waiting motorboat. “Unbelievable.”
“Hey, it’s not that unbelievable,” Dane protested. Actually, it was. Since the death of his wife and unborn son nearly five years ago he had sworn off women. Recent experiences had changed his outlook, and he was beginning to come to grips with some of his inner demons. “I like girls.”
“I thought you liked Kaylin.” Corey Dean, the ship’s tech-head and sonar guru stumbled out of the cabin, trying to slather on sunscreen and spray himself with insect repellant at the same time. His fair skin was no match for the intense sun, but he loved the sea. “I didn’t know you were playing the field all of a sudden.”
“Kaylin’s my friend.” Kaylin Maxwell was the daughter of Dane’s former commander. The two of them had been through a harrowing adventure together, and come out of it barely alive. The experience had forged a strong bond between them, but sometimes it felt more like brother and sister than anything romantic. Perhaps it was because she was the first woman since Melissa to get close to him. “And she isn’t your problem in any case.”
“So you won’t mind if I ask her out,” Matt said, “seeing how you’re just friends and all.” He smiled a gap-toothed smile, and ran his fingers through his close-cropped receding brown hair, pretending to primp in front of a mirror.
“She’s from a Navy family. She’d sooner date a pig than an army grunt,” Dane jibed.
“See there, Corey? You’ve got a shot after all!” Matt helped Corey over the side and into the small craft.
“You know what really blows?” Corey replied, ignoring Matt’s dig. “Bones goes on vacation, and now Dane turns into the player. I thought we were going to get a temporary break from the college dorm room shenanigans.”
Uriah Bonebrake, nicknamed “Bones”, was Dane’s partner and a longtime companion. They had been best friends since their days in the Navy SEALs. The big Cherokee had a way with the ladies, and was known to kick his crewmates off the boat for an occasional evening of entertaining.
“That’s right,” Dane called back, warming to the banter. “I’m picking up the slack for Bones. Bet you I…”
“You what?” Jade sat astride a jet ski just off the starboard bow. Dane had been so busy bantering with his friends that he had not heard her approach. Her brown eyes sparkled, and her straight white teeth shone against her almond complexion. She was wearing a loose fitting white tank top over a turquoise bikini top. Her black shorts were rolled at the waistband, showing off her flat stomach and a few extra inches of her firm thighs. “Come on now, I’m dying to hear.”
“Epic fail!” Corey laughed and fired up the motorboat. “Good luck climbing out of that hole, Maddock.” He and Matt made mock salutes as they cruised away.
“Bet you,” Dane said, turning back to Jade, “that you absolutely love the dinner I’ve prepared for us.” Leaning over the rail, he offered her a hand, which she clasped firmly. He hauled her over with one tug, and she landed nimbly on the deck, her bare feet making barely a sound when they hit. Martial arts training, he supposed, or perhaps dancing. “By the way, totally unfair shutting down the engine and drifting up on me like that.”
“I’m full of surprises.” She gave him a coy grin. “If dinner’s good enough, I might let you take it for a spin around the harbor.” She surveyed the Sea Foam with an appraising eye. “Nice,” she said. “She’s obviously been worked hard, but I can tell you take good care of her.”
“Done much sailing?” he asked, intrigued by this beautiful young woman who seemed to have a great deal of depth. “I suppose if you’ve done enough diving, you have to have climbed your share of rigging.”
“Is that some sort of innuendo?” she teased. He shook his head and she laughed. “I grew up around the water in Hawaii. My uncle had a fishing boat, and I spent a lot of time out with him. My mother hated it, said it wasn’t ladylike, but I didn’t care. Even then I loved the sun, the salt spray, the dips and the swells.” Her eyes had a faraway glint as she remembered. “I don’t get out on the water as much as I used to. Mostly when I go back to visit my mother and uncle.”
“What about your father?” Dane asked. He could tell by the way she flinched that he had touched on a sore subject. “Sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “He left before I was born. Went back to Japan. He wasn’t really part of my life.” She stared down into the blue-green water, her face now downcast. “I did all right, I suppose. What about you? What’s your story?”
“Navy brat,” Dane said. “Did my time in the service, met my friend Bones, and we went into business together when we left the SEALs.” He shrugged. “It’s a good life. Lots of sun. The occasional interesting diversion,” he gave her a meaningful look and grinned.
“I think you skipped over quite a bit in that lovely ten-second autobiography.” She narrowed her eyes and stepped close to him. “But that’s okay. I have all night to pump information from you.” Raising her head, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “What’s on the grill?”
Dinner was one of Dane’s specialties: broiled sea bass with lime and herbs, steamed vegetables and fresh fruit. Jade was duly impressed, and dinner conversation was relaxed and enjoyable. An archaeologist by trade, she had graduated from the University of Utah with a specialty in Native American tribes of the southwest, and now served on the faculty of Central Utah University.
“So,” Dane said, squeezing a lime into his second Dos Equis, “what is someone with your background doing working an early Spanish dig in Argentina? Seems pretty far out of your area.” He took a long drink, savoring the strong flavor, the cool drink perfect on such a muggy evening.
“It’s not as far afield as you might think,” she said. “The Spaniards who founded this settlement were some of the same men who explored the American southwest, even up into Utah.” She put her bottle down and folded her hands in her lap, suddenly serious. “I have a business proposition for you.”
“Bummer,” Dane said. “And here I hoped it would be a proposition of a more personal nature.” He smiled, put his beer down, and leaned forward, mirroring her posture. It was a technique by which Bones swore. He said it created empathy and identification. Then again, when had Bones ever cared about either of those things? Dane suppressed a laugh and leaned back, letting his arms hang over the sides of the chair.
“Very funny,” she said, misunderstanding the reason behind the grin on his face. “Personal comes after I’ve known someone a great deal longer than one evening. Or did you think I was, shall we say, promiscuous?”
“Didn’t think, only hoped.” That was a comeback worthy of Bones, but it didn’t gain him any points. Jade just smirked. Bones had a natural way with women, while Dane had to work hard at it. It wasn’t fair. “Seriously, what’s your proposition?”
“I need to have another go at that underground stream.” She raised her voice and hurried on when she saw Dane grimace. “I think it will take only one more time. I need to go back to the place where you rescued me.” She paused, her brown eyes boring into him. “And I need a dive partner.”
“I hate fresh water dives,” Dane protested. “They’re dangerous, as you found out today, and they’re not something I’m comfortable doing.” Jade kept staring at him in silence. He knew what she was up to, waiting for him to fill the gap in the conversation. She would try to keep him talking until he talked his way through all his objections and right smack into doing what she wanted. Not biting, he retrieved his beer and took another swig.
“I don’t blame you. I know it’s dangerous work, which is why I need an experienced diver with me.” Her voice softened. “This is very important to me. I’ve been working on it for ten years. It’s not…” She broke off, uttered a distinctly unladylike curse, then mumbled something that sounded a lot like “Why do I get so flustered around you?” before turning her attention to her beer.
He made her feel flustered? He swore he would never understand women. The look of disappointment on her face was heartbreaking. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re working on?” he said.
“If I tell you, will you dive with me?” She cocked an eye at him.
“No,” he lied, knowing full well that he was going to let her have her way because… well, just because that’s what was going to happen. “But I’ll think about it. Tell me what you’re doing here.”
Jade leaned across the small table, close enough that he could smell her perfume. Jasmine or something like it. “Are you familiar with the story of the Seven Cities of Cibola?”
“I’ve heard the name,” he replied cautiously. “That’s about it.” A creepy déjà vu feeling blanketed his mind, enveloping him in a muzzy semi-conscious state. He couldn’t possibly be getting into another weird mystery.
“Part of the impetus behind Spanish exploration of New Spain, what we could term Colonial Mexico, was the myriad of myths about treasure and magical places.” As she spoke, she sat up straighter and her voice gained strength and confidence. She would make a great lecturer. “One of the greatest was the legend of Las Siete Ciudades Doradas De Cíbola, the Seven Golden Cities of Cibola. The myth was an outgrowth of the Moorish conquest of Portugal in the early eighth century. Allegedly, in the year 714, seven Catholic bishops and their followers fled across the Atlantic to a land called Antilia.”
“The Antilles,” he chimed in, to show that he was paying attention.
“Correct. The story goes that they fled to the New World and established the seven cities, where they hid gold, gems and religious articles to keep them safe from the Moors.”
At the mention of religious articles, Dane bolted upright. “Oh no. No friggin’ way!” He struck the table with his fist so hard that both their beers tipped over. Jade managed to catch hers, but his hit the table, spewing its foamy contents everywhere.
“Nice,” Jade deadpanned. “Are you always this erratic? What did I say, anyway?” Her smooth features were tense with concern.
“Nothing,” he muttered. “I just had a bad experience recently and...” What could he tell her that she would actually believe? “It’s not important.” Before she could reply he hurried to the galley to retrieve some paper towels. Returning, he sopped up the mess as Jade looked on with an expression somewhere between amused and offended.
When the spill was cleaned up, she nodded like an officer at inspection time, and inclined her head toward the bow. “How about we move back there and watch the sun set?” Dane liked that idea just fine, but was disappointed when, once they were seated, she resumed her story.
“The Antillean islands failed to produce the great quantities of gold and silver the Spaniards were expecting, so they set their sights on the continent and its purported riches. As soon as Cortes and his men finished conquering the Aztec Empire in the early 1520s, they set out to find these legendary Seven Cities of Gold. The expedition took them as far as the Texas panhandle, but needless to say, they found no sign of Cibola.
“And then, in 1528 a Spaniard named Cabeza de Vaca was shipwrecked on the Texas Gulf Coast. He wandered through Texas and into northern Mexico before his rescue in 1536. He told of fantastic treasures he had seen in villages to the north, “with many people and very big houses.” And thus, what is now New Mexico became targeted as the mythical Cibola.
“Viceroy Antonio de Mendoza soon became intrigued by the fantastic riches rumored to exist in the Seven Golden Cities of Cibola beyond New Spain’s northern frontier. In 1539 he sent an expedition led by Estevanico, a black slave who had been shipwrecked with Cabeza de Vaca, and Fray Marcos de Niza to verify de Vaca’s reports. Estevanico did not return. It is reported that he died in western New Mexico at Háwikuh, one of the Zuñi pueblos.”
“I notice you emphasize ‘reported’ that he died,” Dane observed. “You don’t think so?”
“Be patient, I’m getting to that,” she reproved, smiling. She was warming to her tale, and obviously thought he was as well. And he was, despite his better judgment. “Get yourself another Dos Equis and shut up. Get me one too.”
He produced the drinks in short order, and settled back in to hear the rest of the story.
“Fray Marcos returned to New Spain, declaring he had seen golden cities, the smallest of which was bigger than Mexico City. These strange people were said to possess in great quantities domestic utensils and ornaments made of gold and silver, and to be proficient in many of the arts of the Europeans.”
“I think I know how this story ends,” Dane said, recalling a bit of history. “Coronado took a stab at it, and failed miserably. Seems like these seven golden cities were just mud villages and such. Nothing but a pipe dream.”
“Right. He spent almost two years searching for the seven cities, but finally concluded that they were a myth. His expedition was branded a failure.” She bit her lip and stared out at the water.
“This Fray Marcos guy, why do you think he lied? Didn’t want to admit to having failed? Maybe he didn’t want his friend to have died in vain?”
Jade turned and met his gaze with wide-eyed seriousness. “The kindest historians think that, from a distance, he saw sunset on adobe walls containing bits of silica, and believed he was looking at glimmers of a city of gold.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Dane protested. “Why would he see a city of gold from a distance, and never go close enough to get a good look? And what about all the details he provided? How would he know those things if he observed from afar?”
“You’re right,” she said. She took a sip of her beer, then rubbed the bottle across her forehead. Dane watched the cool beads of condensation trickle down her tanned skin. Illumined in the setting sun, they put him in the mind of gold. “Marcos did find Cibola, and he concocted his story to protect the truth.” She took another drink, waiting for his reply.
“Come on, now. Don’t leave me hanging,” he said. “You’ve got to fill in the blanks.”
She reached into her small black bag and withdrew a plastic folder, opened the catch, and produced a small stack of paper-clipped sheets. “I’ll hit the high points, so I don’t bore you,” she said, smiling mischievously. “Fray Marcos’s journal turned up in a collection in Spain. I’ve scanned the pertinent pages. Translations are on the back.” She held them out to him.
Dane felt strangely detached as he took them. His fingers were numb and his mind was muddled, and not because of the beer. “Another journal,” he muttered. Jade cocked her head and frowned, but said nothing. “Unbelievable.” He didn’t feel like elaborating.
“Uh huh,” Jade said. “He provides precious few details, but he makes it plain that he found something fantastic. He is also very clear that the story he told Mendoza was not only a fabrication, but a tale carefully crafted to lead them astray.” She took a deep breath and held it, regarding him as if taking his measure. “I don’t know why, but I feel I can trust you.” Dane nodded and waited for her to continue.
“The journal indicates that Marcos wanted to hide Cibola from Mendoza, Coronado and the rest, but he didn’t want to hide it from the world forever. I believe he left a clue in the bottom of a well.” She paused, either for effect or to see if he had any response. “I found that well just before you rescued me. The top caved in long ago. No one even knew it was there. The bottom portion is intact.” She leaned back, picked up her drink, and peered at him with an intense stare as she sipped her beer.
Dane made a show of examining the papers, all the while turning things over in his mind. He could tell himself that he didn’t want to get involved in another caper like he had before, but truth was his heart was racing from sheer excitement. He had chosen his particular field not only because he loved the sea, but because he loved the mystery, the search and discovery. This was right up his alley. And then, of course, there was Jade. He glanced up, his eyes meeting with hers long enough to register the crinkled brow and tiny smile. She knew she had him.
“So, what exactly do you want me to do?”
Chapter 3
The water was colder than he remembered, and the tunnel darker. He supposed adrenaline had drawn his thoughts away from such things when he was coming after Jade. Now he had time to examine his surroundings, all of which reminded him how much he hated cave diving. Too many skilled divers had met their ends in caves just like this one. Dark, twisting, precarious arteries of peril, all of them. He couldn’t wait to get out of here and make up for the sleep he missed the night before.
The two of them had stayed up late, planning the dive. By the time they were finished, Matt and Corey had long returned to the ship and called it a night. He had suggested that Jade stay the night, but she laughed and gave him a chaste hug before heading back to shore. Thoughts of her blended with images of gold and treasure until he couldn’t say which was the most responsible for keeping him awake.
He snapped out of his reverie when the narrow channel opened into a wide chamber. They were in the well. He looked up, allowing the beam of his headlamp to play across the ceiling. A thick snarl of ancient roots held up massive chunks of stone, bound together by mud and clay that had seeped down into the collapsed well shaft. The whole thing had a precarious feel to it. He couldn’t wait to finish up and get out of there. Jade drifted up alongside him, and motioned toward the floor as if to say “get on with it.” He needed no convincing.
Reaching into the small dive bag strapped to his waist, he fished out his metal detector. About three times the size of a cell phone, the rectangular instrument with its fat red buttons and large digital display reminded him of the hand-held football game he had gotten for his fourteenth birthday. The ‘players’ were little red dashes, and it emitted an annoying tweet whenever you scored. His parents had regretted buying it for him by the end of the first day. He grinned at the memory as he punched the buttons and waited for the instrument to boot up. It was still hard to think about Mom and Dad, but it didn’t hurt the way it once had.
The screen was black, with green indicator bars up each side. He drifted to the downstream side of the well, chose what passed for a corner, and began his search. The little detector could penetrate about three feet in ideal conditions, and he was banking on the bottom of the well being silt and mud. He hoped that whatever they were looking for was made of metal. If it wasn’t…. well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they had to excavate the entire floor, but it was worth giving the unit a shot. Besides, it was an expensive toy, and he wanted to play with it. Better than a power tool any day.
Jade shone a high-powered dive light on the floor in front of him, leading the way as he crisscrossed the well bottom. Thankfully there were few obstructions, the gentle current having kept the floor swept clean over the centuries. He held the detector a half-meter off the bottom, sweeping it slowly back-and-forth, feeling like a hotel maid cleaning the floor.