Gold of the Lost Empire

GOLD OF THE LOST EMPIRE A LOST ORIGINS NOVEL A. D. DAVIES CONTENTS Novels by A. D. Davies Prologue Part I Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Part II Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Part III Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Eye of Sahara Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Part IV Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Epilogue The Dead and the Missing PB His First His Second Project Return Fire NOVELS BY A. D. DAVIES Lost Origins Novels: Tomb of the First Priest Secret of the Reaper Seal Curse of the Eagle Plague Guardians of the Four Shields Gold of the Lost Empire Co-Authored: Project Return Fire – with Joe Dinicola s Adam Park Thrillers: The Dead and the Missing A Desperate Paradise The Shadows of Empty men Night at the George Washington Diner Master the Flame Under the Long White Cloud Alicia Friend Investigations: His First His Second In Black In White With Courage With Fear A Friend in Spirit To Hide To Seek A Flood of Bones To Begin The End Moses and Rock Novels: Fractured Shadows No New Purpose Persecution of Lunacy Standalone: Three Years Dead Rite to Justice The Sublime Freedom PROLOGUE 1946 Petrionion Jaramillo had been walking for hours, and his feet were raw in his thin-soled shoes. He had arrived in this precise spot in the Amazonian rainforest following an old map his uncle had given him, and sworn him to secrecy, shortly before his death. “I must entrust this to someone who is true to himself and our people,” Uncle Jomie had said as he pressed the parchment into the teenage boy’s hand along with a long, old-looking key. “If you go here, people will know. They will come. You must trust they know what is best.” Even now, Petrionion wasn’t sure what he was looking for, and he had almost given up hope when he saw it—a cave that practically called to him. One that had been forgotten by time. No different from the hundreds of others he’d passed on the way, but something deep inside the boy pulled at him like a magnet. Petrionion walked closer and found the cave’s impressive entrance infused with precious metal, well-hidden in the aged rock. Runes, which Petrionion couldn’t read, were engraved in the surround, and when he placed his hand on the metal, a cold chill ran through him. When he squinted, it was as if the runes had lit up. He knew then that he had to go inside. A short way into the cave, where the air hung musty and stale, an old wooden table held a large book in its center. Strange. An actual table. In the middle of a cave. As if someone had been preparing dinner but got distracted, exited, and left their novel behind. Distracted, or too frightened to collect their things. Petrionion walked closer and saw that the book was made of some kind of metal. Should he touch it? Why else would his Uncle Jomie have presented the map to him? It wasn’t like he’d been warned off. Uncle Jomie had practically instructed him to come here. Alone. Without telling a soul. Petrionion dragged the book toward himself. It was heavier than any he’d ever known. The first page was stiff as he opened it. Page? The pages were gold—actual gold, not golden in color—stiff yet pliable. On the first image was an etched map of the jungle with a strange symbol at its center. The same as one of those runes at the door. He looked closer. Other symbols dotted the map. Symbols he didn’t recognize. He followed them and soon realized they were leading him somewhere new. Petrionion closed the book and slid it back to the middle of the table. He looked around. Now his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, he saw bookshelves filled with even more tomes. He wandered without touching and soon noticed doors on the walls. One in particular called to him. Not with a voice or a musical note, but with a pull similar to the cave entrance, a vibration in his fingertips, his toes. He opened the door—unlocked—and found himself in a small room filled with statues and artifacts. He recognized some of the objects as local to his native Ecuador. Others were unfamiliar, some that must have hailed from farther afield, perhaps even beyond South America’s many ages, which he had only heard about in stories. He was mesmerized by the beauty of the pieces, and simply had to explore. At the back, he found another door, locked this time. It wouldn’t budge when he tried to open it. He stepped back, wondering what was beyond, or whether he should even consider breaking in, when he remembered the key Uncle Jomie gave him. Petrionion pulled the old metal key from his pocket, still cold despite the heat of the trek through the rainforest. He inserted it into the lock and twisted, the barrels turning with a smooth click as if freshly oiled, not an ancient door hidden in a cave in the jungle. Peering into the room, something glinted on a plinth in the center. He stepped inside and approached the small golden box. His hands hovered over it, that sense of belonging, like he was meant to be here, soothing what should have been deep apprehension. It reminded him of a