Unlike the previous river, each bank of the clear stream was covered with mossy rocks, orchids of all kinds and many of a hue that reminded Ben of tiny tropical birds that had come to land on the green, strappy leaves. Palm fronds dripped with dew, green-and-red striped frogs croaked, and dragonflies hummed low over the water’s surface.
“It’s beautiful,” Emma observed and turned to grin up at him. Her eyes were luminous with excitement. “A river of paradise, just like your ancestor said it would be.”
“He was right,” Ben agreed, but then smiled. “At least about this.”
As the sun rose, they took to the canoes again. The sunlight began to stream down in earnest, finding a million holes in the canopy overhead. It made the river and surrounding jungle look like some sort of giant garden pergola and leafy archway wending away for miles.
“It is a paradise; seems there are still a few Gardens of Eden still to be found in the world just yet,” Emma added.
In the canoes behind, he saw Steve holding up a camera and filming Andrea who pouted, posed, and waved for his lens. Ben grinned; seemed the actress was true to her word and was going after maximum exposure from the trip.
The lightening of the jungle made Ben feel more at ease than he had in days. It was easy to forget they were still in the dark heart of the Amazon as they moved up a shallow sandy-bottomed stream that seemed about as dangerous as a manicured Boston garden in springtime.
He let his eyes wander from bank to bank, conscious of the fact that there was another party, and a violent one, out there somewhere. But the visibility was good for hundreds of feet, and even if the stream ended, there were huge areas of meadow-like grass that would have made travelling on foot a pleasure.
Underneath the roof-like canopy, tiny birds shot past them that were like feathered rainbows, and Ben looked at Emma, whose face was lit with wonder. She turned to him and her expression clouded.
“It’s so beautiful, but why aren’t there any people here?”
“Yeah, good question,” he replied. “Hardly an inhospitable place, is it?” He looked briefly at Ataca, but decided the question was way too hard to try and act out with his hands so he leaned out the side of the canoe.
“Jenny, question for our guides.”
She raised her chin. “Ask away.”
“This area — why isn’t there any Pemon, or anyone, here?” He waited as Jenny translated the question to their paddler, Ipetu.
Ipetu spoke softly but urgently in return. While he spoke, he noticed that Ataca’s hand had snuck back to the amulet around his neck. In another moment, Jenny leaned back out to him.
“Taboo; this is a place of bad spirits. Some have come here in the past. But then they never come back home.” She grimaced. “And bad news; sounds like our drivers are starting to get cold feet.”
Ben nodded. “Thank him, and thank all of them for their courage. And Jenny, try and hang onto them for as long as we can. Though walking looks easy here, we’re making good time on the stream.”
They paddled for another few hours, stopped for some lunch, and then rejoined the stream again. Ben looked over the side and after the journey on the dark and foul-smelling main river, he was delighted to see that the clear water here was filled with fish.
Silver torpedo shapes darted close to the surface as they tried to pick off overly adventurous dragonflies. Other fish just hung in the crystal clear water without fear of humans at all.
It didn’t make sense. Taboo, they’d told Jenny. Ben guessed it must have been pretty powerful magic to keep the local population out of a bountiful place like this.
The scenery was exactly like how Benjamin had described it in his notebook, and Ben only wished he could go back in time. He wanted to be standing on the bank and watch the face of his ancestor as he came along this very stream. Would he be open-mouthed in wonder, or so exhausted by now that it was only a respite from all the hard travelling he had accomplished? Back then, there would have been no air travel or luxury hotels at the edge of the jungle. But instead, a hacking, chopping and strength-draining slog every inch of the way.
After another hour or two, the sunlight began to vanish, and checking his wristwatch, Ben was confused to see it was still only four in the afternoon and many hours until sundown. Looking overhead, he didn’t discern any great thickening of the canopy, and also the jungle had gone from its bright gaiety to a more somber silence — even the once ever-present rainbow birds were now missing.
They glided on for a few more moments before he noticed that Ataca had stopped paddling. He clutched at the amulet pouch around his neck and turned about, scanning the bank for a moment before then turning back to meet Ben’s eyes.
He spoke rapidly in his local tongue and then both waved a hand and shook his head for emphasis.
Ben groaned, and looking over the Pemon’s shoulder, he saw that Ipetu in the next canoe seemed to be having the same conversation with Jenny and Nino, both animated as they probably pleaded with him.
After another moment, the man made a rapid horizontal slicing motion in the air with his hand and said with significant force probably one of the only words in English he knew, and one he knew they would understand:
“No!”
Nino turned to Jenny and shrugged, and the zoologist eased back and nodded. She smiled and spoke softly to him, and the Pemon man’s face softened, even though his eyes were still resolute. He nodded and paddled the canoe closer. At the rear of their canoe, Mukmet also brought in Steve and Andrea until all three boats were together.
Jenny reached out for the side of Ben’s canoe and smiled with resignation, or perhaps surrender. “This is as far as they’ll go. This now…” she waved an arm, “… is the land of the boraro, cherruves, and churipuri, you name it; all demons.”
“Oh fucking great,” Dan said softly.
“Yeah, I know, but what looks like a tropical paradise to us, is the start of the wettest season, they call Xincceheka.” Jenny looked up as she worked on a suitable translation for the Pemon word. “Dark Lands.”
“The season of the Dark Lands?” Dan’s frown deepened. “What does that even mean?”
Jenny spoke softly to Ipetu again, who leaned closer to her and whispered in return as if afraid of being overheard. Jenny nodded her understanding. “The elders have told them that this is the time of the demons. In this year, the wettest year, it is foretold that the jungle in this area is not safe.” She half smiled but there was little humor in it. “They have quite accurate calendars.”
Ipetu spoke again, even more urgently, and Jenny frowned as she concentrated. She nodded and turned to the group. “Once every half lifetime, the land here belongs to the gods. It becomes their kingdom.”
“That’s it,” Emma said. “It’s got to be all tied in with what your ancestor wrote about the window of opportunity when the hidden place was able to be found.”
“And when the hidden place can be found, that’s when the demons are about.” Steve raised his eyebrows. “Anyone else thinking of Benjamin’s pencil drawings of the dinosaurian?”
“The kingdom of the gods.” Ben sucked in a breath.
“Sounds ominous,” Steve said. “But at least it tells us we’re heading in the right direction.”
“Yeah, there’s that,” Ben said. “Jenny, will the Pemon be here when we return?”
“Good question.” She immediately began to speak to Ipetu, who looked from Mukmet and Ataca, back to her. He shook his head and Jenny turned to him.