The mighty Amazon       The mighty Amazon!

       It snakes and courses through the mighty Brazilian rainforest, a splendid

serpent of gray-blue, giving living to the teeming jungle. Along its banks are

told many strange legends—of lost kingdoms deep in the jungle, of a hidden realm

where primitive monsters roamed and ranged, of a forg. tten race of powerful

blonde warrior-goddesses, that to the many scattered tribes are a legend of

terror. And many, many others. This is a tale of one such legend.  It is

called……

 

                                                  Jana of the Jungle

 

                                            The Vale of Lost Men

 

     The white man ran and ran. The jungle night seemed endless, and black as

the depths of eternity. Eerie night calls sounded all about him—the calls of the

howler monkeys raged throughout the treetops, though these were less numerous

than in the daytime, the weird cries of night birds, the distant scream of a

puma or the deep throaty rumble of that lord of the Amazon, the mighty jaguar.

    Thorns and vines scraped the man’s arms and legs. His clothes were now in

tatters. Clouds of hostile insects stung him. But on he ran, sweat oozing out of

every pore.

     At last, when the rosy fingers of a new dawn began to color the sky over

the leafy canopy, and the first rays of the new sun shot through the emerald

aisles, the man stumbled into a clearing. It turned out it was a compound of

some sort. The man looked up and gasped with relief, for he knew then that he

had at last reached the nearest outpost of civilization. Where he was, he did

not know, could not even guess. But in his situation, it hardly mattered.

    He stumbled to the door of the compound. There was a jeep parked nearby.

From its insignia, the man noted that it was a ranger vehicle. This must be a

ranger station—or maybe a veterinary hospital. The man’s approach set off a

chorus from the caged birds nearby—toucans, quetzals, carasous, macaws, cocks-of

–the-rock, and others. Then he saw the cats—caged pumas and jaguars, and an

ocelot, pacing angrily behind wire mesh. All of the caged carnivores wore red or

blue tags. Surely, this must be a conservation building, or something of the

sort.

   The man banged loudly on the door. “Open up!” he cried. “Help me! Help me!”

His voice came out hoarse, crack, and barely audible, though he was shouting at

the top of his lungs.

   The door opened as the man fell weakly to his knees. A man in a kaki uniform

stood in the door. “Who are you?” he asked.

   “Just take me in!” the man begged.

   The man—a ranger or a conservation officer by the look of him—hauled the

other man into the building and laid him out on a couch. “Take it easy,” he

said. “I’m Dr. Ben Cooper, and this is my animal hospital. I mostly treat

animals, but I’ll see what I can do. I’ll need to run some blood tests. You look

like you might have a fever.”

      Dr. Cooper drew blood from the man’s arm. He then ran some tests in the

laboratory, while the man fell into a deep sleep on the couch. The tests showed,

unfortunately, that the man had indeed, picked up one of the local viruses, but

it was a comparatetively mild strain, one he should recover from in about a week

of rest. Who was this man? Where had he come from? The doctor wanted to know. He

was definitely a white man, not a red or Hispanic, and from his clothes, the

doctor gathered that he might be an American. What he had was doing lost in the

jungle he couldn’t say.

    After nearly a week of bed rest, the man had almost recovered. The fever had

run its course, but still, the doctor told him to remain where he was. In that

time, he had managed to learn a great deal about the man, and why he was here.

And one evening, a week later, three strangers entered the compound.

     Dr. Cooper led them to the man’s bedside. The traveler was still sleeping,

when Dr. Cooper roused him, and told him that they had guests.

   The man wearily opened his eyes. At first, he couldn’t quite credit what they

were telling him.

Just a few feet from him stood a beautiful blonde girl, either in her late teens

or early twenties. She as strikingly attractive in her features and proportions,

which were accentuated by the tight animal skin she wore. Her silky mane of hair

was a startling white-blond, and her almond-shaped eyes

Sparkled a sharp mint green. There was some kind of odd necklace about her

slender throat, banded red and black, possibly of native design. The small, gray

animal was riding the girl’s rounded shoulder.

    The man blinked and sat up. “Whoa! Lady, are you really there, or have I

died and gone to heaven?”

    “Take it easy.” Said Ben. “You’re still sick.”

    “Yeah, right. But—“

     “Don’t worry.” The girl laughed. “I’m just as real as you are. My name is

Jana—Jana of the Jungle. This are my friends Montaro and Ghost.” The small

animal on the girl’s shouldered chirruped loudly, as though in annoyance. The

man got a closer look at the girl’s small companion, saw for the first time that

it was a yapok, or water possum, a small aquatic marsupial.

   “Oh, yes, and this is Tiko.” The girl said. “I wouldn’t want to forget her.”

     Montarro was the tall man standing by Jana’s side. The traveler saw that he

was a red man, from his regal headgear and garb he guessed he might be a chief,

or some high ranking official in one of the local tribes, only he couldn’t

recognize what tribe he was from.

     A loud “Hrrrumph!” caused the man to look down. He gasped loudly, and

nearly jumped back on the bed. A huge cat stood at the jungle girl’s feet. From

its size and proportions, it could only be a jaguar, but it was like no other

jaguar the man had ever seen, for its coat bore not the gaudy rosette pattern of

the common jaguar, nor the glossy midnight sheen of its melanistic counterpart,

but was the glistening white of polished ivory. Not the yellow-hued ivory, but

ivory that was near white as polar snow. The big cat’s eyes blazed with the fire

of emeralds, as a rumble escaped from his deep chest.

    “My god!” the man cried. “A white jaguar! Is—is it real?”

    “Real as anything.” Dr. Ben Cooper laughed.

    “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

     “Well, white jaguars that aren’t albinos do exist. There’s record of them.

But they’re very rare, as you might guess. Much rarer than the black ones that

are actually quite common.”

     “I found Ghost in a hunter’s trap when he was just a cub.” Jana explained.

“And I raised him to adulthood. I wasn’t about to let him be exploited.”

    “Well, that’s a most impressive cat, you’ve got there, girl, I must say. But

what about about you?”

     “When I was a child, I was on a trip down the Amazon with my father, when

there was an accident. We were thrown overboard, and I would have drowned if

Montaro hadn’t rescued me. He is the last member of his tribe, and he was living

alone with the animals of the jungle. His tribe is an ancient one, and remembers

the days when men and beasts could communicate. They still practiced the ancient

magic that was put into this land in times too far gone for any save his people

to remember. He showed me the ways of nature, and I grew up with the animals of

the jungle. They are like family to us. I spent years trying to find my father,

but we never succeeded.”

    The man raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Magic? Come one now, girl, I’m not

that gullible.”

     “Then you may be surprised what the Staff of Power is capable of.” Montaro

said, speaking for the first time. He lifted a long staff that looked rather

liked a ceremonial spear. “The Shamans who made it channeled the elemental

powers of earth, wind and fire into it. The Staff is nearly a thousand years

old. I received the Staff from my father when I became chief, and he from his

father, he from his, back once thousand years, when the magic of this land was

waning, and the shamans found a way to preserve it by creating this staff. Only

one of my bloodline my safely wield it, though, so take caution.”

    The man looked at the staff unbelievingly for several long moments, and then

said uneasily, “Okay, okay if you say so. I’m the stranger here after all. I

don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet. My name is Paul Richardson. It’s quite a

coincidence that you’re looking for your father, Jana. I happen to be looking

for my son.”

    “Your son?”

     “Yes. Let’s see. Where should I begin? It happened three years ago, when I

was taking a plane over a remote region of the Amazon with my wife and

twelve-year-old son Todd. We were over the mountains of the Ricardo Franco

chain, I believe, when our plane crashed. I told Todd to grab one of the

emergency parachutes and save himself. He jumped out and parachuted to safety—at

least I hope he landed safely. The plane crashed some long miles South of the

region we were over when Todd bailed out. We survived, thanks to the thick

canopy of trees we landed in. But it was weeks before we saw any sign of

civilization. That place is filled with jaguars, giant snakes, and hostile

Indian tribes. But we never saw Todd again. I spent months in a hospital in Rio

recuperating. When I had enough of my strength back, I insisted on going back

into that accursed jungle and looking for him. But my wife and coworkers

persuaded me to get an expedition together, which we did, soon as I could. And

for two whole years we spent exploring that region, but we never found a trace

of him. There was no sign of where he had landed, no trace of his parachute, and

thank God, no bones. None of the local tribes knew anything of his possible

whereabouts. But we still hadn’t penetrated far enough yet. As far as I know the

spot we were over when Todd bailed out is still inaccessible to us. “

    “You mean the Madaharra region?” Jana inquired.

    “Ah.” Said Montaro. “It is indeed a place of terrible danger, Jana.”

    “Yes, I know.” Jana said. “The Mandahara are a terrible tribe. Shunned by

most other people of the Amazon., because of their cannibalistic ways.”

    “That’s true.” Said Paul Richardson. “But that wasn’t half our problem. The

exact spot our plane was over when Todd parachuted is in a region even the

Mandahara won’t go near. It is place out of tribal legend, that part of the

Ricardo Franco chain called the Mountains of the Mist by the locals.”

     Montaro and Jana each looked at each other. “Uh. It is indeed a strange and

mysterious place, Jana. And one surrounded by untold danger. We dare not go

there.”

    “We may have to, Montaro.” said Jana. “if the life of this man’s son is in

danger.”

   “I’m not going to get you involved.” Said Tom Richardson. “it’s something I

need to do myself. I’m the only one who returned from our last expedition. The

rest were either killed or captured. I don’t want to endanger any more people.

But I’ve got to go myself, until I find out what happened to my son.”

     “We’ll go with you.” Said Jana. “But what happened to your men? Who

captured them? The Manaharra?”

   “No.” Paul Richardson said. “That’s the strange part. We had penetrated

further into the interior than we ever had before. We had with us a native

guide, one of the few who was fairly familiar with the regions. He agreed to

guide us to the Mountains of the Mists. It is that region of mountains with high

cliffs. They are not high enough to be snow peaked. But sides of those are so

incredibly sheer and smooth, that scaling them is impossible. But this man said

he knew a secret passage into them. I had my doubts, but he even drew us a map

showing where it was located. I even still have it with me.”

     Richardson produced the rolled up map form his pocket, and handed it to

Jana. Jana looked it over. Indeed it was a map of the remote region, with the

villages of the Mandaharra, mapped out. It showed the Mountains of the Mist, and

the their extent. Richardson had marked on the map where he thought his son had

parachuted. And there was another mark where the pass through the cliffs was

supposed to be.

    “We were over that area where Todd would have to have landed. “ Richardson

explained. I remember that when directly over the mountains, we could not see

anything below.  Everything was veiled in thick mist. That’s how the mountains

got their name.”

    “I’ve heard of those mountains,” said Jana. “But no one has ever gotten

close to them. Even the tribes of that region stay away. But they have their

legends….”

    “Yes.” Said Montaro. “I have heard them. They tell of a place beyond the

high cliffs where primitive monsters roam, and strange tribes who are unlike

other men.”

    “Yes, I know.” Ben Cooper said laughingly. “It was those selfsame cliffs

that gave Sir Arthur Conan Doyle the idea for his “Lost World” novel. I’ve never

put much stock in those stories myself. But apparently some people have.”

   “Right.” agreed Richardson. “He got the idea from the famed explorer Colonel

Percy Fawcett, who believed they were the sight of a lost world, where lost

cites from the time of Atlantis might still thrive, and strange beasts like

dinosaurs might still live. Fawcett went on several expeditions into the heart

of the Matto Grosso region, until he and his men mysteriously vanished in 1925.

    “Yes, that’s right.” Said Ben. “He had been near those mountains, and was

about to take his most dangerous plunge yet into that unknown country. Fawcett

must have thought he knew where those lost cities or dinosaurs were, because he

sent a message to his wife saying that he had found what he was looking for.”

    “And then Fawcett and his men vanished.” Richardson finished. “Every last

one of them. There were rumors, of course. Some reports claimed he was alive,

and ruling a tribe of cannibals somewhere. Others said he had been killed, and

one explorer claimed to have seen Fawcett’s shrunken head on a chief’s hut. I

once suggested to one of my own party that maybe Fawcett ended up eaten by one

of those dinosaurs he was searching for. “ he laughed weakly. “The native

trackers among us, all of whom knew the region better than any of us whites,

didn’t seem to share the humor. I guess it is a rather tasteless joke, given the

circumstances.”

   “Well, I don’t believe in lost cites or dinosaurs.” Said Ben. “But I do

believe that your son may well be alive in the Mato Grosso area. I doubt he’s

anywhere near the Ricardo Franco Mountains though. The winds probably blew him

south toward the jungle. It could be he was adapted by one of the tribes. There

have been cases of white children adopted by the Indians, you know.”

    “Todd was a pretty tough kid.” Richardson said. “I think he is capable of

surviving. I just hope I can find him.”

    “About not believing in those lost cities, Ben,” Jana said. “How can you be

sure? There are legends of lost cities all over South America. Some of them are

true, as you and I both know.” She thought of the lost city of the Gorgas, a

native civilization, and Alkan, the forgotten Aztec colony in the heart of

Brazil, once presided over by a white-skinned god Quetzalcoatl Jana had once

mistaken for her father, and the city of the Amazons, tall, white-skinned

warriors of Greek descent. And there were stranger secrets still in the heart of

the vastness, such as the forbidden land of the Katuchi, a tribe of giant hairy

warriors.

     The tales that had lured Col. Fawcett to his mysterious end were no

stranger, no less steeped in mystery to the outside world, than were these.

    “Well,” said Ben “tell us what happened next. Who captured your men?”

    “If you have trouble believing in legends,” said Richardson,” Then you may

find what I’m about to tell you hard to swallow.”

    “Go on.” Ben said.

     “It was on the third week of the expedition. Already, we were deep within

the Matro Grosso region, further than any white man had before ventured, exp[ect

perhaps Col. Fawcett himself. We had not yet reached the Mountains of the Mist.

Our head native guide told us that before we reached the foot of those fabled

cliffs, we were to pass through a mysterious land called the Vale of Hidden

Men.”

   “Vale of Hidden Men.” Murmured Ben Cooper thoughtfully. “Seems I’ve heard of

that before.”

    “I have heard of it.” Said Montaro. “My tribal elders knew well of that

land. They called it a place of bad spirits.”

   “That’s what my native guides said. They feared to enter it, or even go near

it boundaries, far more than they feared the Mountains of the Mist. They said

spirits inhabited that place—evil spirits who once were flesh-and=blood mortals,

but whom the gods had cursed to dwell in that country forever. They said they

could recognize these spirits because their bodies were of metal flashed like

the sun.

    “Go on.” Said Ben.

  Richardson sighed. “Well, mostly I try to respect tribal superstition. But I

didn’t want to turn back now, since I was feeling confident I was really close

to finding Todd. There were other ways around the Vale, as they kept calling it,

but all of them were inhabited by the Mandahara, or by other equally hostile

tribes. Finally, we reached an agreement. They would not lead my directly

through the vale, but there was a way to circle around the borders. They hated

doing that, and told me so, but I kept pressing, and at last they agreed. The

place they called the vale turned out to be a series of vast, perpendicular

cliffs—not nearly so huge as those that gird the Mountains where we were headed,

but awesome, nonetheless. I assumed they were a crater of what must have at one

time have been an active volcano. As we circumscribed them, we noticed there

were a number of cracks and fissures in the sides of the cliffs. Most looked

natural, but some looked at least partially man-made. We figured at least some

of them might lead deep within the cliffs, and if I weren’t headed elsewhere,

they might well be of interest to the archeologist or explorer. Maybe some

mysterious lost tribe or race did inhabit the crater.

     “But like I said, my own business lay in the Mist region of the Ricardo

Franco chain, still many miles distant. And for the first two days

circumscribing the Vale, nothing befell our party, except for the usual insects,

leeches, and the vampire bats which plagued us when we slept. On the third day,

however…..” he paused.

    “On the third day, what?” Jana pressed.

    “It was around noon. We had stopped for a brief rest, and were now

continuing around the west die of the wall, when we were attacked. We readied

our rifles, as the sounds of a large party of men reached our ears. We were

astonished to find that the men that emerged from the jungle were not Indians,

though some of their number looked as though they had a trace of Indian blood in

them. They were incontestably white men. But the most amazing thing about them

was that they were wearing armor.”

   “Armor?” asked Ben “Are sure you and your men didn’t have too much to drink?

No offense.”

    “We had no alcohol with us.” Richardson replied sternly. “These men were

wearing steel-plate armor. And helmets. They carried iron shields with a scarlet

eagle emblem on them. Some of them also carried swords, for the love of God.

Others carried steel-shafted spears. It was as though a time portal had been

thrown open, warriors of another age had stepped through. I rembered what my

guides had warned me of,  of men whose bodies flashed like the sun.They reminded

me vaguely of pictures I’d seen of the early Roman empire, but they weren’t

entirely the same. Their armor and helmets were somewhat different in design,

and if they had counterparts anywhere in the ancient world, I couldn’t place

them. Not that I cared, at the moment. My men were at a loss. For a moment we

just stood staring at these warriors from another time who had materialized out

of the jungle before us. For an instant, they did the same, as though they were

astonished to see us. Then one of them gave an order—I suppose he was their

captain or something. They surged forward, obviously meaning to attack. My men

opened fire. Our bullets grazed harmlessly off their armored uniform, though one

or two of them fell, so we must have found a vulnerable spot on two of them. But

at least four of us got skewered on those long spears. Then we broke and

scattered. They hunted us down. It became apparent, now that I think about it,

that they weren’t trying to kill us, so long as we didn’t try to kill them.

Their purpose was to capture, but for what purpose I can’t guess. There were far

more of them behind those trees then we had first supposed, perhaps dozens. A

small army. They had us far outnumbered. They chased us down, and we were forced

to hide in the jungle. My companions, the ones I know about, were captured.

There are a few that I hope made it back to civilization, or back to their

native tribes. But as far as I know, I’m the only one who actually made it back

this far. For days I wandered in the region. I might have continued on, in the

hope of somehow finding my son, but I lost all sense of direction. Finally, I

made it to your hospital. But I’m determined to go back, once I recover, and get

some supplies—even if I must go alone.”

    “Don’t worry, you won’t have to.” Said Jana. “Ghost and I will go with you,

and be your guard. You will go too, won’t you Monetary?”

    “Perhaps.” Monetary answered. “But I would like a word with you first,

Jana.” He turned and walked out of the room. Jana followed, as Ghost sat down

next to the hospital bed, and absently licked Tom Richardson’s arm. Richardson

winced at the sand=paper feel of the cat’s fibers. “We’ll see to it, that you

find you missing son.” Ben assured him.

   In the other room, Montaro said to Jana. “Like you, I wish to help this man.

But are you certain, Jana, that we can trust him?”

    “Is there any reason not to?” Jana asked.

    “Remember the time that couple claimed to have been looking for their

missing son? We escorted them to the hidden city of the Gorgas, only to learn

that it was the Gorgas’ golden sun-god they were after all along. And hear is

another man claiming to be searching for his missing child.”

     “Hmmmmm. You do have a point Montaro. Do you know of any hidden treasure in

the Matto Grosso region?”

    “None that I know of. But there are many legends of lost cities, just as the

man has told us. And where there are lost cities, treasure is always a

possibility. And I know that he lost Colonel Fawcett of whom he speaks once

lived with a tribe called the Tapuyas, who he reported as fair-skinned with

light or auburn hair, unlike other tribes. They are also reported to be skilled

at working gold and jewelry. Perhaps the Tapuys are related to the tribe who

captured Richardson’s men. And perhaps their jewel and gold working skills have

more reason for his being here than his story of a missing son.”

   That may be Montaro. I do not wish to make the same mistake twice. But

suppose his son really is missing.”

    “Uh. Then we would be doing the man a great dishonor in not trusting him.”

    “Exactly.” Said Jana. “Let’s escort him to the Ricardo Franco chain as far

as we can. And this time, we’ll watch out for any signs of treachery.”

    “That we must, Jana. I do not like to say it, but all strangers do not come

to the jungle in peace. We knew well of the golden god of the Gorgas, and those

thieves’ habit of gold collecting, yet we allowed their lies to lead us there

anyway. This time, we must make sure nothing like that happens.”

     When they reentered the room, Tom Richardson was already back on his feet.

“I hope you’ve decided to help me?” he asked.

    “We have.” said Montaro. “We cannot allow you to do this on your own. But do

not leave our sight during the track to the Mountains of the Mist. The jungle

holds too many dangers.”

     The next day they gathered their provisions, and went forward on foot to a

nearby trading post, on the banks of the Rio Teles. There, Ben Cooper rented a

steamboat, and they traveled South in the direction of the Brazilian-Bolivian

border, separated with hundreds of miles of dense dark rainforest, some of which

no outsider had ever set foot. The shores of the great river teemed with water

birds, including flamingos, cranes, and flocks of vivid scarlet ibis. There were

droves of capybaras peccaries frequenting the shores, and the occasional tapir

and brocket deer. As the river wound its way deeper and deeper into the

unexplored realm, they sighted caimans sunning themselves on the river banks,

and the larger, more savage Oronoco crocodile. 

     “Any chance of those things getting us, Jana?” Paul Richardson asked.

     “Not as long as we respect them, and do not jump overboard when they are

hungry.”

    “Then remind me to stay out of their way.” He laughed.

     They had not gone much further, however, when Jana’s assurances were put to

the test. The boat struck a protruding rock. The entire boat shook, though the

jar was slight compared to the one that had separated Jana from her father. But

it was enough to knock Paul Richardson off the deck and into the now turbulent

water. Jana and Montaro were not certain what had caused this—perhaps the man

had just been leaning over too far, and in his still weakened condition when

they had hit. Not that that mattered now. The man was splashing as yelling to be

rescued.

    “Richardson is overboard, Jana.” Montaro said. “I shall use my staff—or

perhaps Ghost can jump in and save him.”

    “I will use my necklace,” said Jana. She unfastened the necklace and tossed

it at a large, overhanging branch. The necklace sawed through the branch,

causing it to crash into the water.

    “Thanks, Jana.” Richardson gasped as he splashed for it. The necklace

circled through the air to soar back over the boat. Ghost, who was lying on the

deck with Tiko sprang up and seized it in his jaws and retrieved it for Jana. 

    But then they all noticed something else. A long, sinister shape was gliding

through the turgid water in the direction of the flailing explorer. At first,

Jana thought it must be one of the great crocodiles that frequented the river,

or perhaps a large jackery, but soon she recognized the shape for what it was.

And it was overtaking Richardson fast. Even it he reached the branch, it might

easily have him.

   “It is a giant anaconda.” Said Montaro. “Richardson may be done for.”

    “Not if I can help it.” Said Jana. The jungle girl ran to the edge of the

rail. She could not leap in and save Richardson in time. But she knew there was

something she could do. She raised her head to the sky and voiced her weird

call—the call that was known to all jungle animals since the days when men and

beasts spoke the same tongue.

    Ghost bounded to her side. The great ivory cat snarled down at the water,

voicing a feline’s natural revulsion of all things reptilian.

   “No, Ghost!” said Jana, stroking the cat’s neck and shoulders. “Stay.” She

sensed the cat was about to plunge into the turgid water to do battle with the

giant snake. Jaguars being one of the few cats who were at home in the water, he

might have been able to overwhelm the mighty reptile. But anacondas were even

more at home in the water, and it was possible even a cat as huge and fierce as

Ghost would have been bested, and Jana did not want to lose him. Besides, if she

could communicate with the serpent, then perhaps no animals blood would have to

be shed, and that was the way Jana wanted it, if at all possible.

    She again voiced her cry, and she saw that the giant river serpent was

responding. The great swimming reptile bypassed the floundering Richardson, just

as the man was able to reach the safety of the log. The snake undulated toward

the side of the boat, and the great triangular head lifted out of the water,

surmounted on several feet of glistening neck.

  “Slithor!” Jana addressed the mammoth water boa. “Listen to me, Slithor! You

will hunt elsewhere for your meal. But I need your help! I want you to help that

man. Bring that man to me, Slithor!”

   The anaconda flashed around in a tremendous arch. Richardson gasped in horror

as what looked like 32 feet of glistening coils undulating back through the

water toward him.

    “Do not swim away, Richardson!” Jana called. “He will help you.”

    Richardson looked on the bring of panicking anyhow, but even as he gasped in

fright and revulsion, the monster’s gleaming coils rose out of the water beneath

his arms. He realized the animal was not treating him like a potential meal, so

he clung to the beast, as Jana had instructed. The anaconda bore him back to the

boat where Jana and Montaro pulled him aboard.

     “My thanks, Slithor.” called Jana, as the mighty river serpent undulated

away.

    “My thanks to you, Jana.” Gasped Richardson.” You…..you really communicated

with that snake. I’d never have believed it!”

   “ Can communicate with all animals—even the insects respond to the ancient

tongue.”

    “I’m certainly grateful that you can.” Richardson said.

    “Good.” Said Montaro. “See that you don’t fall overboard again. The river

holds many other dangers besides the giant snake. There are the crocodiles we

have seen. And the piranha.”

     “We will be traveling into piranha infested water very shortly.” Jana said.

“So be cautioned.”

     “Then I certainly hope your “magic” or whatever you call it, works on

fish.”

     “Piranha attacks on large mammals are actually quite rare,” Jana informed

him. “but there are several areas coming up where large schools congregate.

Anything in the water may be a target.”

     They traveled further downriver where the dangerous fish lived. Once they

passed a savage school of piranha, which leaped and savagely clicked their

steel-trap jaws at the sides of the boat, but nothing else happened.

    As evening drew near, they went ashore and made camp. Manuel Pedarez, the

boat captain turn the boat around and sailed back the way they had come. They

told him to meet them here, on this exact spot, at the end of next week.

    As the fire blazed, casting eerie shapes dancing against the thick boles of

tree trunks. They sat around in a semicircle. Jana lay against Ghost, who was

stretched and relaxed, the light of the fire shimmering of his brilliant

alabaster coat. Jana scratched him behind his ears, and the jaguar responded

with a purring rumble deep within his throat. Tiko lay nestled within Ghost’s

paws, the little yapok having nothing to fear from the mighty jaguar.

     Before they had gathered wood for the fire, Ghost had gone hunting into the

surrounding jungle, where he captured a squealing white-lipped peccary in a

battle royal that left a jagged scar rent by one savage tusk in the peccary last

draw in defending his life. The peccary now was skewered on the spit, having

been skinned and eviscerated by the humans. Dr. Cooper had treated the wound the

jaguar’s kill had inflicted with the antiseptic he had brought with him. Ghost

had winced and growled but he knew Ben Cooper, and he allowed the veterinarian

to treat him. 

    “That pork looks mighty good.” Richardson commented. “But does it trouble

you for us to eat one of your animals friends.” He asked Jana.

     “Sometimes.” Jana admitted. “I usually try to limit myself to fruit, or at

least fish. But I know that Ghost must eat meat, and he often can’t resist

showing me his prowess as a hunter.”

    “Like a regular housecat bringing home a captured mouse.” Said Ben.

    “I guess so.” Said Jana. “Remember let’s not let any of this meat go to

waste.”

   “I’m with you on that.” Said Richardson. They cut slices of meat from the

slain peccary, and ate. As they were finishing up their meal, they got to talk

about the earlier encounter with the anaconda.

   “That was some snake,” Richardson said. “Almost had me too, before you talked

him out of it.”

  “I’m glad I was there.” Jana laughed. “But there are stranger legends in these

parts about snakes growing even bigger than that monster.”

    Richardson raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Well, I might have heard of one of them

myself—about the explorers who come to a gigantic wall in the jungle. It’s too

high to climb so they try to circle around it. When they finally reach the end

two or three days later they find the gigantic head of giant serpent.”

    “A native superstition.” Montaro said.

    “I’m well aware of that.” Said Richardson.

     “But one based in fact. Many are the legends of giant serpents among the

Amazon tribes. Especially in this region.”

    “And what exactly are some of them?” Richardson asked.

    “Well, I’ve that around these parts, there’s tribes believe that a giant

serpent, three or four times the size of that monster that almost got you lives

around here in the river, but no one has ever seen it up close.”

    “Or lived to tell about it.” Montaro grimly added.

    “What’s it supposed to be?” Richardson asked. “A survivor from prehistoric

times?”

     “Just a local legend, I’m afraid.” Dr. Cooper said.

    “But most legends have basis in facts.” Said Montaro.

    “So I keep hearing.” Said Ben.

     “Any chance of us running into it?” Richardson asked.

   “I doubt it.” Said Ben. “But….well there is always the possibility. “Some of

the local tribes say it slithers out on land after dark to swallow their

livestock and children whole.”

     “Maybe we shouldn’t have can’t this close to the river.” Offered

Richardson.

    “Don’t worry.” Said Jana “I think we camped far enough away. The crocodiles

and jackeries don’t come this far on land, and neither do the big snakes. And

anyway, the fire will keep them away. Even the anaconda fears it.”

     “I’ll say amen to that.” Said Richardson. “By the way, how many marches is

it before we reach the Vale of Lost Men form this river? The last time I was

there, my men and I were traveling over land, from the east.”

     “We’ve come as far as we can on the river.” Said Montaro. “The place you

seek to cross is still many marches from here, but we should get there within

three days, if we keep moving.”

     “You know something,” said Richardson.”I’ve been thinking about Col.

Fawcett. There was one tribe he visited in this area who shoed him a plaque with

a picture of man dressed in a toga and sandals on it—you know something like the

ancient Greeks or Romans might wear. They claimed it came for the lost city

Fawcett was seeking. Do you suppose it could have been the same lost city those

strange men were from.”

    “It is indeed possible.” said Montaro.”

     “But I’ll have to see them first before I believe them.” Said Ben. “Not

that I doubt your story, Mr. Richardson. It’s just that I’m still not sure you

saw what you thought you saw.”

   That night, they took turns watching the campfire, the night interrupted only

by the screams of night birds, and hisses of reptilian life from the great

river.

     When they awoke the next morning, the rosy light of dawn was painting the

western sky over the trees. The rich throaty sounds of howler monkeys greeted

them. They traveled the rest of the day through the emerald depths of the

jungle, fighting off swarms of stinging insects, and the occasional constrictor

or poisonous snake. Once, Richardson nearly stepped on a bushmaster that laid

coiled against a rotten stump. The snake had lain camouflaged, but only Jana and

Ghost had heeded the snake’s toxic hiss, before she grabbed Richardson by the

arm, and pointed out the danger. By now, Richardson was a veteran explorer, and

jungle was no stranger to  him. But he still marveled at the ultra keen senses

of the jungle girl, and how they had saved his life once again.

   By mid morning of the third day, they could see the rim of the extinct crater

marking the Vale of Hidden Men. There were some well-worn game trails in this

area, some frequented by the local tribesmen, and Richardson kept checking the

forest floor for any trace of the prints of sandaled feet, which might verify

the story of him and his comrades. But though the barefoot prints of local local

villagers were fairly common, there was no sign of the strange armor-clad men

Richardson claimed to have seen.  Then, sometime around midday with the sun high

in the sky there was a shill, sharp whistle in the air.

   They all saw its source. Some concealed human foe had fired a native dart

into Ben Cooper’s neck.

   “My God!” cried Ben. “A dart. Arrow poison—“ Already, he felt faint, and

collapsed to his knees. “Get my medical kit! I’ve got anti-venom in there!”

   There was another whistle through the air, this one narrowly missing

Richardson. “God!” he exclaimed. “Who’s shooting at us.”

    “Someone who is unhappy with our presence here!” answered Montaro, gripping

his staff of power. He recited an ancient incantation in his native tongue. All

at once brilliant streams of colored light erupted from the ancient staff. They

filled the jungle with unnatural brilliance chasing back the shadows.

   They still did not see who their foes were. But from the surrounding jungle

came exclamations of awe and ecstasy.  The light faded, and they all stood in

abject awe, as they saw forms swinging through the trees at them. The movements

seemed human, but too diminutive, and the ease at which they swung through he

trees was so pronounced that it gave Jana the impression they were being

attacked by some sort of intelligent apes.

   But as the first one of them swung down and lighted on the forest floor, Jana

could see that he was a man, only a very diminutive one. Then another of the

arboreal warrior swung down, and another and yet another. Who were these people?

They were unlike any men they had ever seen. They must be members of a local

tribe of Indians, Jana reasoned. They were incontestably red men. But the

tallest among them reached below her shoulders. All of them wore red and indigo

war-paint, and carried bows and quivers, as well as blowguns and darts.

    “Montaro….” Whispered Jana. “Who are these people?”

    “They are forest pygmies. I have heard legends of them.”

   “I knew there were pygmies among the tribes of the African Congo.” Said Jana.

“but I’ve never heard of any race of dwarves in the Americas before.”

     “I’ve heard of them.” Richardson said. “Col. Fawcett wrote of them in his

diary.”

    Montaro looked at him sharply. “Is this so?”

      Richardson nodded. “He didn’t actually encounter them. But he heard rumors

of them from the other tribes in this region.”

    “Then they are indeed a secretive people, I gather. I imagine they are the

kind to deal harshly with outsiders.”

     “Thanks for making me more nervous.” Richardson said.

     “Do not worry.”said Montaro. “I have them calmed—for the moment.”

     The forest pygmies were reacting strongly to Ghost. Though they lowered

their arrows in the presence of the humans, several kept them trained on the

cat. Tough they were treated the feline with even greater reverence, staring

open-mouthed at his gleaming alabaster coat. The white jaguar snarled and

gnarred his fangs at them, causing some of the pygmy Indians to retreat in his

presence.

    Montaro spoke some words of his native dialect to the man whom he perceived

as their leader. The man returned with a few words in his own. Soon Montaro and

the pygmy were conversing.

   “What did he say?” Jana asked, when he had finished.

   “The language is similar enough to my own that I can make it out. He asks us

to forgive his people for firing at us. It was a grave error.”

    “Why did they fire at us, Montaro?”

     This is their jungle, and they have sworn to keep all intruders out. But

they see now that we are emissaries from the Gods. They know from the Staff of

Power, and that we walk in the company of a jaguar whose coat shines like the

full moon. And you Jana, of the white hair, and green eyes, a girl who runs with

the great white cat, they have never seen your like before either. The two white

men they are more suspicious of, as they are too like the other seekers who have

come to their land before. But they will remain safe as long as they are in our

company.”

     “What about Ben?”

    “They will allow us to treat him.”

     Montaro opened Dr. Cooper’s medical kit, and applied the anit-vehnom. The

poison of the arrow-poison frogs was especially potent—it is easily fatal once

it enters the system of most small prey. On an adult man, the affect was far

less severe, at least of the variety carried on the pygmies’ darts. The pygmy

Indians allowed Ben to rest for several minutes, then they were able to carry

him to the pygmies’ village, where they were able to treat him further with

antidotes made from special herbs. In the presence of Jana, Ghost, and Montaro

they were treated with respect and reverence.

     Many of the small children—the eight and nine year olds among them were

barely over three feet high—took a great interest in Ghost. The adults, too,

were awed into hushed reverence at the presence of the white jaguar. Jana spoke

reassuring words to them, and coaxed some of the village children to approach

the cat and stroke his sides and along his neck and strong back, even to give

him a good scratch behind the ears. Ghost purred rumbling ly and nuzzled some of

the kids, allowing them to continue to pet him. He even tried licking some of

them, though Jana restrained him, fearing the bristles on the cat’s tongue might

leave sores open to infection.

     That night they shared the chief’s hut, and Ben recovered swiftly. The

chief had been at first suspicious of the strangers in their land, and of the

girl who walked with the great white jungle cat, but he agreed to allow them to

stay, since his warriors insisted they must be emissaries of the gods.

   Then, sometime during the night, Jana was roused. Ghost was on his feet in an

instant. The others were rousing groggily. The chief appeared in the doorway to

the room he shared with his wife and children. They heard the screams of

terrified villagers out there in the night, and the baah-baahing of panicked

livestock. “What is happening?” asked Jana.

    The chief said something to Montaro. “He says the great serpent is attacking

the village. The great beast of the river.”

     “What?!” asked Ben. “You mean that thing’s real?”

    “I don’t know.” Said Jana. “But we’ll see. Come on, Ghost.”

    The white jaguar roared a challenge to whatever was the source of the

commotion out there in the dark. They dashed out into the night. Villagers were

running for cover. Those who had ventured outside their huts to see the source

of the commotion now panicked. Women grabbed their over-curious children, and

ran inside. Those assigned to guard the livestock were running in terror crying

in their native tongue,“The great serpent! He great serpent of the river is upon

us!”

The chief’s warriors had seized their spears and were running to the attack.

Jana and Ghost followed them.

     As they neared the animal pen, Jana gasped as she saw it. Several of the

small Indian warriors, armed with spears and flaming brands faced a gigantic,

swaying shape, as the goats herded themselves together in fear. It was mostly

lost in shadow, so Jana could not see it very clearly but it did appear to be a

giant reptile or serpent of some kind, much larger then the anaconda they had

run into earlier, of such proportions that it stunned the jungle girl’s senses.

She raced near then stopped, as her brave heart contorted in fear for one of the

few times in her life.  She held her ground, but never had she looked upon a

monster such as the one she now faced.

   The beast had swayed its enomormous trunk in her direction. The warriors

still attempted to beat it back to wherever it had come from. It now towered

over her, the great length of its arching neck painted garishly in the dancing

light thrown by the men’s torches. It appeared much like an anaconda, but it was

far more gaudily patterned than that snake, it scales decorated with blotches of

cherry-red, surrounded by indigo rosetted, its shiny, gleaming-scaled length was

a chartreuse green. The top of its flat, wedge-shaped head was similarly

decorated. The enormous head was nearly the size of that of a horse.

   It was a monster out of fantasy, a creature out of a nightmare, that slowly

lowered its head toward Jana.

    The jungle girl did not run as the creature trained one cold, ophidian eye

upon her.

   “Slithor.” Jana said. “Slithor, listen to me. Do not harm these people. Go

back to the river where you belong.”

   A great, slick crimson tongue flicked out of the serpent’s jaws and flicked

in the air for a few moments, as though tasting the strange being who stood

before him.

  The warriors had fallen silent, and were now staring in awe. Beside her, Jana

felt Ghost voice a rumble deep within his throat. “No, Ghost,” she cautioned.

“Wait.”

    The serpent stared at her for several seconds, then swung away. The warriors

yelled and tired again to jab the serpent’s enormous trunk with their spears.

Jan saw that they had already fired a number of arrows into the beast,

apparently with no affect. The serpent hissed thunderously at the men then

plunged back into the jungle night in the direction of the river. The Nuravi

warriors looked at Jana and Ghost in awe.

   Montaro rushed up to her side. “That snake.” He said. “It was real. I’d heard

tales of it—or others that were like it—from my boyhood. I thought I believed

them. But I realize I didn’t until now. But I am much surprised that you were

able to communicate with him, Jana.”

     “Why is that, Montaro?”

     “Because such creatures are not of the natural world, or so my father, and

tribal elders told me. Remember the Creature of Darkness worshiped by the

Katuchi?”

   “Oh, yes.”

   “You could not communicate with that monster, because it was not of the

natural world. and would not respond to the language of nature. It was created

by sorcery, by the black arts which are forgotten to all but a very few tribes

if any. The Katuchi, being one of the non-human races from before Man, may still

have possessed the forgotten arts.”

    Jana looked at him. “What do you mean Montaro? How was it “created.” Do you

mean it was some kind of unnatural mutation?”

    Montaro nodded. “Something like that. The creature of the Katuchi was

perhaps made—or mutated, as you and Ben might say, from an ordinary reptile,

such as an iguana. This the giant serpents of old were mutated from ordinary

jungle snakes, like constrictors, or rainbow boas. This creature was almost

certainly once an anaconda.”

    “But how did it get like this? Who mutated it.”

   “That I do not know. Nor do I know how you could communicate with it.”

   “It seemed a little difficult.” Jana admitted. “Not like the snake in the

river, and other animals.  It was like I had difficulty getting him to

understand.”

    “It may be that there is enough of the natural still in this serpent that he

understood you. The Katuchi’s creature had been transformed into an entirely new

animal than whatever it originally had been. And it was totally under the

control of the Katuchi’s pipes.”

   “That may be. But do you think someone could be controlling this monster?”

   Montaro shrugged. “It is possible Jana.”

   They turned and walked back toward the chief’s hut. Some of the warriors

followed, but at a respectful distance. They were whispering among themselves,

not sure what it make of what had transpired.

   “Who, then?” Jana asked.

   “Do not repeat this,” said Montaro. “but I would suspect the chief. I can

tell for my words with him, that he is a weak man, who seeks to rule his people

by fear. Perhaps he is indeed the one who controls the serpent.”

    “But why would he send the serpent to attack his own village? That doesn’t

make sense.”

   “Perhaps he wished to blame the attack on our presence here” Montaro

speculated. Jana had to agree he had a point. But the next day the chief

congratulated them for having driven off the serpent, stating that “truly they

must be emissaries from the gods.” But this time Jana, Too, sensed something

about the chief that made her not trust him. Montaro said the chief wished to

rule these people by fear. But somehow it seemed as though the man as fearful of

something himself

  The next day spent in the village, Jana began to notice things.

           Most of the rugs and pottery in the village looked native made. But

there were other items, which gave her cause for curiosity. Among these were

large vases, and urns, which looked like they had been forged in a kilm, the

like of which she did not see in the village. Then there were certain clothes

and textiles that she felt quite sure had been spun on a loom, and were not

hand-woven.

     And then there were the coins, which Ben was able to procure from the

chief. They were made of gold and copper. There did not appear to be an

abundance of gold or copper jewelry among these people, and no sign of

metalworking. They must have been traded from another tribe. And Montaro had

found out that these secretive people did not trade with any neighboring tribes

except in times of dire stress, with the exception of one tribe in particular

tribe with whom they carried on a trade on an annual basis. This tribe gave them

many of the textiles, and the metal coins, among other things, and these items

were prized above all else. These people inhabited a country, which lay to the

west, beyond the rim of the great crater. Their country was called the Vale of

Hidden Men, for they seldom left it, except to trade, and occasional secure

captives, for some unguessed rituals. The never took captives from the Forest

Pygmies, or the Nuravi, as they called themselves, because they were on friendly

terms with them.

   Realizing that these people knew a way around the vale of Hidden men, Montaro

and Jana were finally able to persuade the chief to allow one of his warriors to

guide them around the vale. With some measure of reluctance, he agreed.

   The man sent with them was named Aru, and he was chief among the Nuravi

warriors. He was rumored to have killed a jackari with only a flint knife. And

though a jackari is a small version of a crocodile, for so diminutive a warrior,

it was an impressive accomplishment. They asked Aru what he knew of the Vale of

Hidden men, and what the people who dwelt there were like.

    “They are strange men.” The young warrior replied. “unlike any other tribe.

They have strange skills, and can make things like no one else. Myself, I have

never seen them. But plenty of our people have. They say the men of the vale

have bodies that flash like armor, and we believe they must have strange powers

to do the things they do. Some say they are truly spirits in the form of men.

That is why we fear ever to break trade with them.”

    “So that is why you have a truce with the vale men.” Jana mused., beginning

to suspect the reason for the chief’s fear.”

    “They have many things that we desire and prize above all else.” Aru

explained. “and we have no desire to break our true. But if we did so, terrible

things might happen. The summer rains might flood our village, or they could

send famine to destroy our crops. Some Spirits can control the weather, you

know, so we have to be careful not to offend them. And then there is the Great

Serpent of the River. The beast you sent away the other night. Some say it is

the ruler of the Vale Men who controls it. At first, our chief believed it was

he who set the beast upon us because we had taken strangers into our midst. You

see, the most important task we must do for the Hidden Men is never allow

strangers near their land. They do not wished to be discovered by outsiders.

When the Great Serpent has attacked our village, it was because we allowed

stranger to intrude too close to the vale. But as you were able to ward off the

monster we know you indeed speak for the gods, and we have nothing to fear from

you.”

     “And have any of your people been beyond the great rock wall—into the vale

itself.”

     “A few have those who have traded with the vale men on a regular basis. The

chief himself has been inside the vale on occasion. He says he has seen the Vale

Men’s city….”

      “They have a City?”

     “Yes. A great and grand one, it is told.  It is called Tyrion, City of

Jaguars, ruled by a king named Tyrus. He is the leader of whom I spoke. The

chief claims to have met with him. The city lies beyond the stone wall and

across the Gorge of Jaguars. Anyone who goes there who is not wanted will be

eaten by the beasts.”

     They resumed their trek, and Aru led them around the vast escarpment. On

the evening of the third day however, Aru informed them that he would go no

further. He had shown them the way, and tomorrow he would return to his village.

 

   They slept soundly that night, but in the morning they got a rude awakening.

   They found themselves surrounded by apparently hostile Nuravi warriors, with

arrows and blowguns trained on them. The chief was there as well, grinning

nastily at them. Aru was there too, his own bow trained on them.

    “Leave us alone!” aid Jana. “We are your friends. We told you we mean you

and your people no harm.”

    “I don’t think they’re listening,” said Richardson.

   “But what happened? Did we offend them some way?”

    “Isn’t it obvious?” said Richardson, pointing at Aru. “That little bugger

there betrayed us!” Aru, for his part, looked a bit embarrassed by the

accusation, as though he did not like what was happening, but returned the man’s

gaze as best he could.

    “Then I will ask them—“ Montaro said, reaching for his fabled staff. ”Wait!

The Staff of Power! Where is it?”  he searched the ground frantically. Some of

the Nuravi laughed at his confusion.

   “I have it, brave warrior.” Said the chief. Montaro looked and saw that he

spoke the truth.

    “You are in the Gods favor no longer, now that I possess your fabled staff.”

 

   “You must return it,” Montaro warned. “only one of my lineage may wield that

staff.”

    The chief laughed. “Not anymore. I now hold the power of the gods in my

hands. Now you will do as I say.”

    Montaro noticed that some of the warriors seemed reluctant, but were more

afraid not to obey the chief. It had been the chief who had coveted Montaros’

staff, and he must have arranged this entire thing, they now realized. But his

followers had no choice but to obey.

    “What do you mean to do with us?” asked Jana.

    “Like I told you. We trade once a year with the men of the vale. This is

that time of year. And you are our trade items. Go quietly and you shall not be

harmed. The Men of the Vale will look on us with much favor to bring them these

humans with strange powers, the girl who talks to serpents, and a white jaguar.

Outcrops shall flourish. ”

    Montaro, Ben, Jana, Ghost Tiko, and Richardson were marched along the side

of the towering escarpment, in the way they had intended to continue, until they

reached a narrow fissure in the cliff wall. This the chief told them was the

entrance to the Vale of Hidden Men.

    “Now go on!” the pygmy chief told them in his native language. Montaro

translated. Soon they had disappeared into the crack, and darkness swallowed

them up.

     They ventured deeper and deeper within the vast cavern. Formations embedded

with crystal rose all around them. At last, they emerged on what could only be

the other side of the cliff. A rock formation spanned a deep gorge. Prodding

them with their spears the Nuravi escorted Jana and her friends across. The

gorge was filled trees, and the steep, craggy sides were lined with creepers and

lianas. Some deep-throated roars shook the sides, of it, and Jana and her

friends peered into its depths.

     “Look!” shouted Richardson. “Jaguars!”

     And he as right. The bottom of the gorge was filled with snarling, pacing

jaguars. The overhead sun slanted through the trees into the depths below, to

splash on the gorgeous, rosetted coats of the snarling. golden cats, and shimmer

glossily on the midnight coats of the black ones. They began to congregate below

the mighty stone bridge, turning their emerald gaze up at the new group of

interlopers being forcibly led across the span. They roared with fangs barred at

the sight of the ghostly-coated member of their species. Though the mighty cats

had likely been raised together and were tolerant of one another. But any new

member of the cat tribe to venture onto their turf was greeted with fresh

hostility. Ghost snarled back, hissing and spitting in feline contempt greeting

his fellows in turn.

     “By God!” exclaimed Richardson. “This really is a gorge of jaguars!”

    “Yes.” Said Ben. “looks like Aru told us the truth about that one. So maybe

there really is a city.”

   “I would bet on it.” Said Montaro. “We shall see.”

     “Indeed there is,” the chief replied. “As you shall soon see. The jaguars

are the pets of king Tyrus. They do well in keeping intruders from this land.

There are tunnels leading from the gorge into his royal palace. He only releases

a few of them into the gorge at each day and night. Sometimes he allows them to

hunt their own pray, and he release deer and pigs into the gorge for them to

feed on. That does not mean they are above feasting on the flesh of intruders if

it gives his majesty the pleasure.” He added with a touch of malice.

    When they were across the gorge, and the roaring of the great cats subsided.

 They found themselves on the edge of a broad fertile plain, in the exact center

of which was a vast lake. The reedy edges of the lake were frequented by droves

of waterfowl, egrets, cranes and flocks of scarlet ibis. And on its shores was a

sizable village . The hoses were made of stone mortor with grass roofs. They

could see people at work in the fields of maize, or tending flocks of sheep.

There were also some oddly dressed shepherds herding small animals that looked

like a small species—or perhaps breed—of tapir. These people wore colorful

tunics and skirts of what looked like dyed wool. They were indisputably red men,

though of a tribe neither Jana nor Montaro had even heard of.

   “Those people are the Kermaxas.” The chief explained. “They live their own

life in the vale along with the people of Tyrus. They are servants and bodily

guards. They are allowed to follow their own ways as long as they do not

interfere Thrionian law.”

    Jana wondered. This chief was showing himself to be more informed about this

mysterious country then they had been led to believe. She observed the houses of

the Kermaxes. Some of them were conversing in a dialect that somehow did not

sound native in origin at all. The architecture, too though basically native in

design, bore the influence of some unknown foreign culture. It somewhat reminded

her of the Indian village in the valley of the Amazoni. The tribe who dwelt

there were totally subservient to the giant race of blonde female warriors who

presided over that country. The Amazoni were of ancient Greek descent, with a

Teutonic strain somewhere in their lineage, and the architecture of their city

clearly demonstrated this, though the influence of native cultures had left

their stamp as well. There was also something of the Greek in the dwellings of

the natives who were servants to the warrior women.

    It was the Amazoni who had unwittingly given the Amazon river their name. It

happened by accident when the Spanish Explorer Francisco de Ortanella had sailed

from the Peruvian Andes to the Atlantic. He heard tales among the Indians of a

tribes of white-skinned female warriors, who inhabited a wall city somewhere

deep in the jungle., and even claimed to have encountered them himself. Later

explorations of the river turned up no evidence of any such warriors, and

Franciso’s tale had been scoffed at ever since, evidence of the unreliability of

traveler’s tales. But the Amazoni were real. Montaro’s people had known of their

presence for centuries, and Jana had seen them with her own eyes. There was no

doubt that Old World cultures had crossed the Atlantic at various pints in

ancient history, and settled in the Americas. Some of these settlements may have

died off some time in the past. Others, it seemed were still thriving. And here

was other such culture, though its origins still escaped her.

    Out across the vivid blue of the lake were the unbelievable forms of sailing

ships. No  modern vessels these, but ancient seafaring craft of a vanished

world. They were fat-hulled and slim-prowed affairs, apparently fishing vessels

of some sort. And they sails striped in blue and red, and bore standards of

eagles dragons and serpents. Jana thought she saw men on boar tossing nets in to

the waters, which evidently were teeming with fish.

    And beyond the lake was the City of Tyrion itself.—a collection of soaring

towers and battlements, of columns of purest ivory whiteness, and domed with

gold that flashed and burnished in the sum.

   Then they saw that one of the boats was approaching them on the lake.

    It was not so large as the others, but still it bore a strong mast and sail,

bearing the standard of an eagle with wings outstretched.

     There were men on board. The ones in the for of the craft wore robes and

togas. The man at the head of the prow wore a white, purple-bordered robe, and a

toga of the same royal purple. His skin was clearly white, like those of his

compatriots, but there was a certain ruddy cast to it. His hair , like all the

men was deep black, and appeared well-oiled, and his eyes were dark, and

penetrating as he gazed upon the Nuravi and their captives. The other men in the

boat also wore robes, of green red and blue, which had obviously not been

fashioned in a simple native village. And situated behind them were four men

clad in steel armor, and helmets with iron swords naked from their

scabbards—clearly representative of the men who attacked Richardson’s party.

Other men were in the boat as well, rowing the boat toward the shore. These were

obviously slaves or servants of some sort, and there were both red and white men

among their number.

   When the boat came to rest on the shore, the man in front who appeared to be

a leader of sorts, said, “Ah, chief Unragorrah. You do us great honor.” There

was a subtle but unmistakable tinge of

Mockery to the man’s words.  “And what have brought for his majesty’s tribute

this year? Some tame macaws for his menajory? Mayhap some more bushels of maize?

It looks like you’ve netted a few fish of the human sort.”

    The man’s dialogue was lost on Montaro and Jana. But Ben was vaguely

familiar with the tongue that he understood the gist of what the man was saying.

But where could he have heard the dialect before? In his study of ancient

languages in college, most lilely, but he still couldn’t place it. He could

speak fluent Hebrew, and there was something of that dialect in the man’s

speech, along with a bit of the Greek as well, but it was also far removed from

the modern dialects of both tongues.

     “I bring you these strangers, my lord.” Answered the chief of the Nuravi,

bowing low. “They were trespassing on our land. As you can plainly see, they are

different from any strangers we have disposed of in the past. So we took the

liberty of capturing them and bringing them to you.”

    “I see.” Said the man, looking over the four captives, and the white jaguar.

“There is nothing out of the ordinary that I can see about any of the men. Two

white strangers garbed like all the other intruders in our realm. Obviously

treasure seekers here to exploit our wealth. And the red-skin is a common

warrior whom you should have killed outright, along with the other two.”

     “He is not ordinary, my lord!” cried Unragorrah hastily. “Not only is he a

brave strong warrior who would make in ideal slave, he came to our village with

this,” he held out the Staff of Power. “It is a magic staff that holds strong

medicine within.”

    “Does it?” the man took the spear and looked it over. At first he appeared

skeptical, but as he examined the spear, he became impressed. “These markings

along the shaft –I believe I recognize them. They are ancient symbols of power.

You did well to bring me the staff. I will have Tyrus look at it. But the

warrior you should have disposed of. I’m afraid your payment is going to be

rather paltry this year.”

    Unragarroah looked up pleadingly--though it this news that made him do so.

Obviously, he had wanted to keep the Staff for himself. It was Montaro he hoped

to offer as tribute.

     “My lord,” he asked, “May I not keep the staff? I have a tribe to govern

and have need of its powers. This warrior  is very fine and will serve Tyrus

well.”

     The robed man looked at him with regal anger flashing in his eyes.

“Silence, fool! Just for that I should have you fed to the jaguars! So you

intended to cheat King Tyrus of his tribute did you, you pathetic, blathering

idiot?”

    “No, no!” cried the Unragaorah. “I would never cheat his royal majesty! I

only wanted—“

    “So you’re a liar as well!” observed the man. “You know what? I think I will

have you fed to the royal jaguars—that is, if it so pleases His Royal Highness

once he learns that you betrayed him! Guards! Arrest this man!”

   Two men in armor started forward.

     Unragorrah screamed.

    “No!” cried Jana, though not understanding the language, realizing that this

man was about to have the chief arrested.“No! Leave this man alone!” She jumped

between the guards, and Unragorrah. In a flash, Ghost was beside her. The mighty

jaguar roared a challenge to the armored guards, who stepped back, fear starting

in their eyes.

    “This man has a family to look after.” Jana told him. “He may be a weak

chief, but he has a wife and children to look after. I will not allow you to

take him.” Beside her Ghost roared in answer. She was not certain if the man

understood her—infact she was reasonably certain he didn’t, but she hoped she

had made her point clear—that they wouldn’t allow them to capture the chief

without a fight.

    The purple-robed man stepped back, astonishment showing on his features.

Jana expected his next reaction to be one of rage, but it turned to one of

admiration mixed with mild amusement.

    “Welll,” he said. “The female is a worthy catch. I’ll grant you that,

Unragorrah.  A young she clad in only an animal skin, white tresses like the sun

at midday? And such fire, such spirit! You don’t see courage like that often, in

either a man or a woman! And the great white cat—well, I admit I’ve never seen

such an impressive animal before! He will be a welcome addition to the royal

menagerie. Perhaps I’ll let you go after all.” He quickly motioned to the

guards, who lowered their swords and stepped back.

     Ghost snarled up at the man belligerently, ivory muzzle wrinkling back for

formidable teeth.

    “You won’t take Ghost.” Warned Jana. “I won’t allow you to make him into one

of your trained beast.”

    The robed man only sneered at her, and motioned the chief and his Nuravi

warriors off. “Don’t try to cheat his majesty again,” he warned, “Or next time,

you may not be so lucky.”

     The armed guards ushered all of them into the boat. “Now, as for you cat,

young lady.” The purple robed man said. He raised an arm and four guards rushed

toward them on the deck, brandishing thick ropes. They lassooed Ghost snaring

the jaguar about his thick neck and foretlimbs. The cat, spit and thrashed,

swiping with his talons. But these men were accomplished animal handlers,

trained to restrain wild beasts for the arena. Jana protested loudly and rushed

forward to aide her friend, but the armed guards retrained. The jungle girl

thrashed wildly, but the men still held her fast.

    “So you’re a feisty one are you, are you?” laughed the robed man , his voice

thick with arrogance. “We’ll see how much fight you have in you when you’re

added to King Tyrus’s harme.

   The guards hauled Ghost into an iron cage. At a command form the robed

official, the baot pushed offand swung around on a course toward the beckoning

city. They sailed across the breadth of the lake. They neared the glistening

towers of the gold-and-ivory metropolis that took up the entirety of the great

island in the center of the lake.

  It was then that Ben Cooper realized; he recongnized from the city’s

arcitecture, what the dialect of these people must be, and who they were. Their

culture was that of ancient Phoenicia-these people were Phoenicians!

      “Richardson—“ he said. “It just came to me who these people are.’

    “Yes—they’re survivors of an ancient Phoenician colony—they must be. I’ve

read all about their ancient culture. They were the original Canaanites of the

Bible, and the founders of the ancient city of Carthage, among others. They were

a marentine culture—that explains the fishing rigs. But how do you suppose they

got here?”

    “I have no idea,” said Ben. “But there’s been plently of speculation about

Phoenecian culture on New World civilizations. And they were well known for

their seafaring capabilities along the shores of the ancient Medateranian. If

any of the people of that area where capable of making a voyage across the

Atlantic, they were.” 

    As they traveled over the clear blue sparkling water, they saw that it was

indeed teaming with fish of all sorts, doubtless bred and released into the lake

for commercial purposes. Most fish were small and silver, in tremendous schools,

though there were a number of immense Barramundi fish as well, the largest among

them nearly the size of Ghost. Tiko scampered off Jana’s shoulder to the rim of

the rig, where he peered into the water at the teeming piscine multitudes. Fish,

after all, were his favorite food.

   “Do not jump overboard, Tiko.” Jana warned.” You would become separated from

the rest of us.”

    Tiko chattered back at her, them peered back into the dizzying blue depths

of the lake. A huge grayish-white shape, larger then all the others swam up to

the side of the boat. A long-nosed head poked through the waterand squirted a

jet of water onto Tiko. The yapok squealed and tumbled backward, her fur

drenched by the cold spray. Tiko screamed “Chee! Chee!” at the intruder.

     Jana laughed slightly, in spite of their prediciment. “Do not be angry

Tiko. I think he was trying to be friendly.” The animal that had squirted Tiko

was an Indus dolphin, a freshwater species that frequented the Amazon. The

dolphin chattered at her in almost a playful manner. “AAAA-ooooh!” called Jana.

The dolphin chattered in answer, then disappeared beneath the water. The purple

robed man looked at Jana with some suspician, then away.

     As Jana watched, she saw more of the aquatic mammals swimming through the

water. She realized that she might call them to her, have them overturn this

boat, free them from their captors. But where would they go? They were already

in the middle of the huge lake, and they could never make it shore before one of

the other vessels overtook them.

   “Do you have some means of talking to animals, girl?” she heard theircaptor

ask.

     “I speak to them in the language of nature.” She answered.

   “His majesty, I am certain, will take great interest in you.”

   Tiko climbed to her shoulder and scolded the man in annoyance.

   “You and quiet that little water rat.” said the man. “Or you may lose him.”

   “You won’t harm Tiko while I’m still alive.” Anawered Jana.

      “You are a brave girl, I’ll give you that. We will see how long your

bravery holds out.”

    They reached the dock. A garrison of armed men greeted them. They, too, were

clad in armor plate, and the two captains wore a sash and robes, again of deep

purple hue. Their garb was not unlike that of the Roman Centurions. All of them

carried iron spears and swaords. Jana guessed they were the king’s royal guards.

And the purple-sashed captian held on a chain leash a trio of huge

splendid-coated royal jaguars, who strained snarling upon their leashes, barring

fangs and blazing eyes. Jana remembered that Queen Nigra’s Amazons had trained

pumas to do their bidding. Among the Hidden Men of the Vale, it seemed Jaguars

were favored as pets and guard animals. Ghost snarled back at them as his cage

was borne ashore.

     The guard captain gave a salute. “Ho Nephretus, ambassator to His Majesty.

What tribute did the savages bring for his royal highness?”

    “They brought these strangers.” Nephretus answered. “Two white

treasure-seekers, a red-skinned warrior from an unknown tribe, and this peculiar

white female who can talk with beasts, and her great white jungle cat.”

    “Aaaah>” murmured the captian. “This is not what I was expecting, but an

most unusual catch, I must say. Especailly the cat.  With the proper training he

will make an excellent attack animal. Or mayhap his majesty will consign such a

unique specimen to his menajory. We shall see.”

    The guards accompanied them through the streets of the ancient city. Marvels

of the ancient world were everywhere. Merchants and markets proffered goods

under the striped awnings. There were many sellers of fish, whicker baskets

stuffed to their brim with their silver catches. Some were hawking barrels

filled with crabs, shrimp, or other sea-food,. There were jewelers proffering

finely-cut gemstones, and exquisite carvings of jade, onyx, and gleaning jasper,

depicting monsters and divintity figures. Other merchants sold textiles, richly

woven carpets, purple-dyed wool, and clothes of many colors, chiefly red, blue

and purple. Others sold vases, urns and other pottery, some glazed and

embellished with scenes of heroes battling fantastic monsters, or of gods,

dragons or demons, or idyllic scenes from edenic myths. There was a weapons

smythy, from which came the clanking and hammering of the smiths forging out

swords and spears, and the shrp sent of molten metal, and billowing louds of

gray smoke billowed forth. Other hawkers sold fruits, pineapples,maize,

tomatoes, pumpkins, and sugar cane, as well as freshly baked fruit pastries.

There were livestock for sale as well, goats, sheep, pigs, the dwarf tapirs they

had seen earlier, and wild turkeys, as well as tame spider monkeys, and macaws,

which squawked in rauceous annoyance as they passed by . There were many

plain-robed commoners on the streets, and a few members of the jaded rich as

well. All the inhabitants wore sandals and togas. Not a few of them cast curious

glances at the party of  royal guards with their strange captives as they passed

by. There were a few other guards patrolling the streets as well, and the

captain saluted them as they passed by. These guards, obviously meant to

maintain order in the streets, were also accompanied by trained jaguars.

    At length they reached the rich portion of the city. Here were the mansions

of the noble familys of Tyrion. And the royal palace itself. The gates swung

open and they entered down a vast hall flanked at intervals with porcelain

statues of heroes of past ages. At last, they reached the throne room itself.

The marble-tiled floor was coverd with luxuriant carpets of rich red and royal

purple, and with the skins of jaguars and ocelots. The marble pillars which

supported the room were inlaid with gold and lapis-lazuli. A number of great

jaguars, four spotted, and another black, lounged on the floor, obviously tame

pets. Four, beautiful women lounged in the chamber as well, lying on the marble

steps, and standing around in a group whispering one another as the strangers

were brought within the throne room. All of the women were dark-haired,

dark-eyes, and dusky skinned. The throne had a series of polished steps of

alabaster marble leading up to it. On the throne itself sat an imposing figure

who was clad in a scarlet tunic and another deep purple robe. Upon his brow was

a ruby-jeweled curclet of hammered gold. He held in one hand a gold goblet of

crimson wine, doubtlessly brewed from his finest vineyards. His dark, deep-set

eyes flashed terribly, imperiously, as he gazed upon his guard captain and the

four strangers.

   He was none other than Tyrus IV, monarch of the vale of Hidden Men.

    “Your royal highness,” said the guard captain,  “We bring these interlopers

from unknown outlands, as tribute from the Nuravi savages.”

   “I am not sure what to make of the men, oh, majesty,” said Nephretus, “But

the blonde woen has a strange gift. She can speak to the animals.”

    Tyrus raised an eyebrow at this. “Is that so? I hope, for your sake, that

you do not exaggerate, Nephretus. You know what might happen if that were to

occur.”

    “Yes, your highness.” The once haughty ambassador lowered his gaze.

     “Then allow the female to demonstrate her powers.”

    Jana stepped forward. “I will show you, oh king.” She told him “If you allow

myself and these others to go free.”

   Ben Cooper stepped forward and translated Jana’s words for the King.

     Tyrus laughed. “You will show me,” he said, “so that I do not mhave you and

your friends skewered on sword point this instant.”

    Jana realized she really had little choice. There was no way they could

escape at the moment. But to demonstrate to the king what she was capable of she

called to the tame brirds, a couple of gold-and-blue macaws preched on a nearby

stand. “AAAAAAH-ooooooh! Pichu! To me Pichu!” the birds fluttered acroos the

royal chamber to light on the girl’s outstretched arm.

   “Rah! Rah!” she said to the great jaguars who shared the king’s chamber. The

mighty spotted felines got up and padded over to Jana. They began licking the

jungle girls’ palm with the utmost affection.

    “Impressive, I must say.” Agreed Tyrus, gasping. “I have not seen the like.

These great cats obey only me. But what of this great white cat my warriors have

captured.”

    Ben Cooper translated for jana.

    “He is Ghost, my white jaguar. He will not harm you. I demand you set him

free.”

    “The beast is yours?” Tyrus asked.

     Ben translated again.

     “I raised him from a cub.”

    “It is so, majesty,” said Nephretus. “This Girl walks with the great jungle

cat. I have seen it myself.”

     “Silence! Let the girl speak. You are the cat’s mistress, you can make him

obey you.?”

     Jana’s gaze hardened. “Ghost is not a pet—he is like a brother to me. He

stays with me because he so chooses. He is my friend.”

   Ben translated for Tyrus.

     “Then I have made my decision.” Tyrus said. “You all will prove yourselves

in the arena. If you are friends with the big cat, we will see how if the both

of you can handle the Slithering God. If you prevail, then you have earned your

freedom.”

    Jan a rasied an eyebrow. “And that of the others as well?”

     “You have my word.”

      ‘We also found this among them, your majesty.” Said Nephretus, with head

bowed as he presented Montaro’s magic staff. “I believe your royal personage

should take a look at it.”

   King Tyrus leaned forward as he gazed at the Staff of Power. “What is magic

about this stick? It is a ceremonial war-spear, nothing more. Perhaps the

“savages consider it magic—“

    “Allow me, your highness.” Said Montaro, stepping forward. The guards moved

to mrestrain him.

    “No!” commanded Tyrus. “if this stick really does have powers, allow the

warrior to demonstrate.”

    Montaro grasped his Staff, and held it aloft. He muttered a few words in the

arcane tongue. At once curling flames burst forth in a shower of orange sparks

at the base of the staff. The guards,  the harem girls and even the king gasped

and sighed in awe. Montaro spoke some more words, and the fire fizzled out.

   “Indeed, warrior, forces of magic do reside within your weapon. My court

magician would have great use of such a stick. With it, you put him to shame.

But for now, I will allow you to keep it for when you fight the Slithering God.

I wish to see how it will be used then. Guards, take the men to the royal

dungeons, and the cat to my exotic menagerie. As for the blonde girl, put her in

my harem. But do not fret, outlanders. For you all shall be united shortly.” 

    

     The days Jana spent with King Tyrus’s harem girls were uneventful. She was

allowed to wonder the palace wing where the harem girls were allowed.  She had

little success communicating with them for most of them spoke the dialect of

ancient Phoenician  that she was unable to understand. There were a few Indian

women among them as well, and jana understood enough of their native tongues to

communicate. One Indian woman named Mara told Jana that she was to be her tutor

in learning the language of the vale men. They spent many hours in the palace

library, pouring over the scrolls, until Jana could speak a crude form of their

dialect. Jana also discovered that some of the scrolls told the history of these

people, and how they came to the Vale. Apparently, they were descendent of a

party of Phoenician mariners who had blown off course, and wondered the sea for

months, until they  landed on the shores of Brazil many centuries ago. They

tracked inland, and founded this city, along with numerous others on both

continents. There were wars between them and the native civilizations, as well

as a few with other foreign cultures who had made their way into this land. At

last empire of Cuzco sacked their remoining cites, and they retreated here to

this vale, where they founded Tyrion, the last remnant of a once rich empire.

Their other cities captured, and their people dilated with the bloodlines of the

native people, the men of the vale saought to preserve their people and their

culture. But as time went on, the royal family became inbred, with a weakness

for insanity and despotism. The last four kings had been tyrants, hated by all

the populace. But so stuck in the old ways were these people, that they were

refused to organize a revolt.

      “So you have been selected to entertaining Tyrus against the Slithering

God.” Mara told Jana. “That is most unfortunate. But you say you can communicate

with animals. If that is true, then perhaps Tyrus seeks to test your skills.”

    “I believe he does.” Jana admitted.

    “Then perhaps it will please him to let you live.” Mara told her. “Otherwise

he should not have put you among his harem.”

    Jana kept wondering just what this slithering God was. Perhaps it was

another fabled creature such as that of the Katuchi, or the river serpent.  From

the scrolls, she had learned that the kings Tyrion had a long practice of

magic—not just among their mourt wizards, but among the royalty itself. From the

writings, Jana knew it could not possibly be sorcery from the Old World; it had

to be some kind of magic gleaned from the local Indian tribes—and it included

the power to transform animals into monsters by reciting certain incantations.

In fact, sorcery must have been fairly prevalent on the continent at the time

the Phoenicians arrived, for them to have retained such a mastery of it, even

after it had been forgotten by most tribes.

    While she was wondering among King Tyrus’s gardens, Jana heard a voice

whispering to her from behind a rose bush.

   “Jana….are you the one called Jana?” he asked.

  “Yes ……that is me.” She answered, turning to see who it was who had spoken.

     A robed young man who somewhat resembled a younger version of  Tyrus

himself, stepped out from behind the bush. “My name is Prince Ibor. I am nephew

to King Tyrus. I will ascend to thrown myself  if death claims King Tyrus.”

     “And what do you want with me?” Jana asked.

     “I wanted to meet the girl with hair like the sun whop can talk with

animals.”

     “So now you’ve met her.”

     “Is to true what they say about you?” Ibor asked.

    “Depends on what they say.”

     “That you can talk to birds…and my uncle’s cats.”

     “I speak the language of nature. It is a tongue all of nature understands.”

    “I don’t suppose you could teach it to me?” Ibor asked.

     “Then don’t.”

     “I…..am sorry about how you and your friends have been treated by my

family. I would like to help you escape.”

    Jana realized that perhps here was the break they had been waiting for-as

long as ibor was sincere. “If that is so, Ibor,” she said. “do you know how to

free my friends, that we might leave this city?”

    “Not now I don’t. But perhaps I can find a way. The don’t entirely trust

me…..”

     “Why is that. Because I have been accused of conspiring with my sister and

some noblmen who are on the senate to overthrow Tyrus.”

     Jana drew nearer to Ibor, and looked around to make certain their

conversation was not overheard. “Are the accusations true.”

     “Well, to tell you the truth, my lady…partly, yes.”

     “I am rather glad to hear it, Tybor.”

     Tiko, who had been searching for shiny objects in the garden, climbed to

Jana’s shoulder and chattered.

     “A water possum!” exclaimed Ibor. “Is it yours?”

    ‘Well, yes. Tiko comes and goes as she pleases. But tell me about your

uncle.”

      “Tyrus is a tyrant—everyone knows it. He destroys all those who displease

him in some small way. Some men on the senate are seeking to replace him with

me. To tell you the truth Lady Jana, you are lucky you took Tyrus’s fancy.

Otherwise you might have been fed to the jaguars, or sentenced to death in the

arena.”

    “I am sentenced to the arena, along with my friends.”

   “Perhaps. But I doubt whatever happens, Tyrus will allow you or your white

cat to be killed. The men may not be so lucky, I fear.”

   “Ghost? You know of him?”

   “Of course I know of him. The palace is in an uproar over the discover of you

strangers. Probably the whole of Tyrion knows. Tyrus’s court wizard believes

that your white cat is a blessing from the gods.”

     “I’ve heard that before. But tell me what is the ‘Slithering God” we’re to

be sacrificed to.”

     “He is the huge monster that dwells in the catacombs beneath the royal

palace. Tyrus has most of the citizens believing he really is a god. He has

lived for nearly a thousand years, after all.  But I know better.”

    “But what is he?”

    “He is a mammoth serpent, like the great river boa, only many times his

size. The royal court wizard knows the secret of making such monsters, though

I’ve heard its lost to the world beond the cliffs. There is a special

incantation among the Books of Magic in the library’s secret archive that allows

one to transform such monsters from an ordinary water-serpent. This particular

monster has been kept alive for centuries by magic. It has swallowed many

enemies of the royal family.”

    Jana felt her stomach go queasy when she heard this.

   “Tyrus uses the monster to terrorize the local tribes. There is a secret

passage beneath this palace that leads to an underground river. The river leads

beyond the high cliffs. Tyrus sends his pet serpent through this passage to raif

the village of the Nuravi, if they do something that displeases his Royall

Highness.”

   So that was it—that serpent that had raided the village of the Nuravi, the

river beast of ancient mlegend—its home had been here inside this walled city

all the time! Legends of the creature’s existence had persisted over centuries

in this region, baffling explorers and zoologists alike. And all the while the

legends were true, for the beast had been kept immortal for ages!

   “But how does he control the serpent?”

  “He possesses a stone made of strange metal Somehow it allows him to control

the serpent by means of telepathy. To tell you the truth, lady, he made a

mistake the last time he sent the neast on that village, and he is trying to

keep it covered up.”

    “Why is that?”

    “His wizard has a special seeing-eye glass that tells him what is going on

outside the city, especially in the village. The wizard told him that stranger s

were approaching our land, and that the Nuravi had intercepted them. When he

learned that the Nuravi had not killed the intruders, or turned them away, he

sent the beast to attack their village. But he did not count on your ability to

communicate with serpents. He now realizes the gods must have wished to see you

spared. “

   “I see. Do you still think you find a way for us to escape.”

    “Perhaps. But you will have to trust me first. If you spend some time with

me, then perhaps the guards will believe I’ve taken a fancy to you, and will be

used to seeing us together. You have seen only a small portion of the palace.

Allow me to show you around the royal grounds.”

    “I am confined to this one wing . The guards—“

    “The guards will allow us, so long as I am with you.” Ibor assured her.

     Jana wasn’t sure she trusted Ibor—not yet. He might not be like his uncle,

but if the guards saw him befriending one of the prisoners, wouldn’t hat make

them even more suspicious?  But she decided she needed to spend more time with

him, in order to get to know him.

      Ibor showed her the rest of the gardens , the weapons armory, the royal

hunting park, and stables,the hall of family history, which told the entirety of

the history of the Tyrionian dynasty since their arrival in the New World. Jana

mused that an archeologist whould have given up his arm for twenty minutes in

this place. And most especially, Ibor gave her a personalized tour of the royal

zoo, or menagerie, which was open to the public three days a week.

   It was an impressive collection of wild animals, and it reminded Jana of

Montezhuma’s royal zoo that had once existed in Tenochtitlan, the site of modern

Mexico City, ancient capital of the Aztec empire. There were cages and cages

with bars of copper or gold filled with brids with gorgeous plumes—macaws,

currassos toucans, hoatzins, Quetzals, ibises, and many more. There were caged

pumas, sloths, armadillos, screaming capuchins, and chattering squirrel monkeys.

There were artificial ponds filled with soft-shelled turtles, and myriads of

colorful, exotic goldfish, and a separate pond frequented by caimans. But there

were other beasts that did not seem to be part of the native fauna at all. And

it was these that gave jana the most consternation. One was a small bipedal

lizard that sood up and peered out through the bars of its cage in a birdlike

manner. Jana bent down to look at it. No, she decided, it wasn’t a lizard after

all—it was a dinosaur.

    The notion shocked her tremendously, dizzying her even at she peered at the

tiny creature in its cage. But that’s what it was—a miniture, bipedal dinosaur.

   There was also a cage filled, not with birds but with minute flying reptiles,

with beaks filled with sharp teeth and skin for wings. And then Ibor showed her

a large, circular pit. Inside the pit Jana saw a large, lizardlike bipedal

reptile, like a small allosaur—and that appeared to be just what it was. The

young dinosaur looked up at them hungerly and gave a loud roar, displaying rows

of needle-sharp teeth.

    Jana called to the dinosaur in the language of nature. The beast responded

by turning its attention away from them, and on a sheep carcass that had been

left in its pit as a meal.

     When Jana asked Ibor about the strange animals, he replied, “There are many

other such animals. Tyrus has his animal handlers catch them and bring them

here. They come from a land beyond ours, far into the valley of the Mist. There

are great birds with skin for wings, great shaggy beasts with snouts like

serpents, and mighty tusks, and giant cats larger than then the mightiest

jaguar, with teeth like swords. King Tyrus calls them his exotics. They are far

too valuable to be expended in the arena, so he places the few he captures in

his menagerie as curiosities.”

    Jana remembered the story of Paul Richardson’s missing son. “One of my

friends is looking for his missing child. Do you know the way to the valley

where these animals live?”

   “Yes. But the way is difficult. I will show it to you, if we can first allow

your friends to escape from the Vale.”

    But the next day Jana and her friends were summoned to appear in the royal

arena. It was situated behind the place and open to the public. Jana joined her

companions in the cells beneath the place. Soon, the guards came and escorted

them into the vast arena.

     A cheering throng greeted them. It seemed every citizen of Tyrion had come

out today to see the the intruders meet their end. The four strangers were

ushered into the center of the arena. Tiko was still clinging to Jana’s

frightened by so many poeple and all this loud noise. And from another entrance 

the royal animal keepers brought out Ghost an ivory jaguar in a gold-barred

cage. The great cat, too, was confused by the sight and smell of so many humans.

It angered him, and he snarled. They drew back the door of the cage, and Ghost

leapt out onto the white powered sands. The men held their spears and nets at

the ready, as the white jaguar snarled at them.

   “Ghost! Here, to me!” Jana called. Ghost forgot the men and bounded across

the hot sands until he stood next to Jana.

     “What do these people have planned for us?” Ben Cooper wondered,

     “I do not know, Ben.” Montaro said. “But I do not imagine that it will be

pleasant.”

    Jana was not sure she should tell them what she had found from Prince

Ibor—that the Slithering God was the beast of the river that had attacked the

Nuravi.

   Suddenly, there was a blare of brass trumpets from the Royal Box. King Tyrus

was there. Jana saw that Prince Ibor, and a man tin dark blue robes that must

have been the royal court wizard were stationed beside him, in front of the

royal guards. “Citizens of Tyrion!” shouted King Tyrus imperiously. His words

had a calming affect on the crowd. “Today we are gathered here to witness the

judgment of the Slithering God upon these four intruders form lands beyond our

own.

Some of you may have heard that these three possess powers granted by the gods

themselves. Now it is time to see, which, if any of them, are fit to live. Raise

the gate!

     A huge gate in the center of the arena slide open loudly, hinges creaking

ominously. The crowd had cheered, but now fell silent in anticipation. From the

blackness within came a silibant hiss, of terrible volume. And the beast behind

the gate slowly slid out into the daylight. The sun shimmered in the myriad of

minute scales on the unbelievable head. It was that of an anaconda, but so huge

it was stupefying.

    “By God!” exclaimed Paul Richardson. “Isn’t that the same monster we saw in

the Nuravi village? Or one just like it?”

    “It is!” cried Jana. “I found out from the Prince. I wasn’t sure I quite

believed him. But he says the king has some way of controlling the monster. He’s

the one who made it attack the Nuravi!”

   “Then we have to defeat it, Jana.” Said Montaro. “You talked to the beast

before. See if you can do it again.”

     The giant serpent slid out of the opening into the arena, arrowing in the

direction of the captives. It was as thought it were a bushmaster, sliding

toward a group of petrified agouti. It great purple-red tongue licked the air,

tasting the warmblooded pray laid out for it.

      Tiko, still perched on her shoulder, hid her eyes and quaked, as   Jana

stepped forward bravely. The crowd held its collective breath. Length upon

fantastic length giant serpent continued to slide out onto the arena sands. The

monster was enormous—frightful! Five time the length and width of the largest

anaconda the thing had to be, its incredible body ffashing and shimmering in the

morning sun, as the rays glinted off its scaled immensity. The crimson-and blue

rosetted which lined the serpent’s vast trunk, only faintly resembling the

markings of a normal anaconda, gave it a quality of garish beauty.

     The fantastic lenfgth of the serpent’s head and neck rose and arched over

Jana. The great, wedge-shped head lowered until it nearly was level with the

jungle girl’s head. Thecrowd gave a vast, collective intake of breadth.  The

great reptilian head swayed to and fro above Jana, as though indescisive as to

weather to swallow this prey or no.

      “Slithor!” said Jana. “Slithor, listen to me. I am your friend, Jana of

the jungle. These people have enslaved you. I now set you free. Go back to your

home, Slithor. Go back to your home, and do these men’s bidding no longer. Go

back to the great river, where there are plenty of caiman, and cpaybara, and

tapir to eat, but no humans! Go Slithor!”

     The great serpent remained swaying above her, swinging hypnotically.

    “I—I don’t think it’s working Tiko.”

    Then the monster snake unhinged his vast mouth. The mighty, reptilian jaws

swung themselves pen like a miniture drawbridge, to reveal, rows upon rows of

wicked, fishhook-like teeth. They were the horrid fangs of an anaconda, only on

a much larger scale.

   From the wet, pinkish cavern that was its throat issued a terrible blast of

putrid breath, and a thunderously loud hiss.

    Jana stepped back, realizing her attempt to communicate with this god of the

river was this time not working!

     “Jana get back!” Montaro shouted, readying to throw his Staff of Power.

    But Jana was already leaping to one side as the monster struck. The giant

head shot through the air as the jungle girl leaped aside. Tiko leapt off her

shoulder and scampered acroos the sands, screeching wildly, until Ben Cooper

caught her.  The jaws closed with a resounding snap.

    The crowd screamed.

    “Jana!” Montaro cried.

    But Ghost was there first. Fueled by his feline hatred of all things

reptilian, the great gleaming cat charged across the sands in defense of Jana.

With a mighty roar that all lesser beasts of the Amazon knew and feared, he 

sprang straight for the giant serpent’sneck, just behind its head, the moist

vulnerable portion of any snake, even one of such proportions.

    Ghost sank his fangs into the flesh of the giant serpent. The entire length

of the animal went mad, its vast length flailing wildly, as it strove to

dislodge the  clinging cat. The roars and shrill hissings resounded throughout

the arena as the two fantastic antagonists battled.

     Jana ran to Mointaro. “I couldn’t speak with it!” Jana gasped.

     “That may be because King Tyrus’s hold on the creature is too strong.” He

said. “But call Ghost t away. Brave though he is, that is one monster that can

easily crush him.”

    “Ghost! Let go, and come to me!” jana called. “You cannot kill that thing!”

    The monster snake was attempting to fold the white jaguar into his

glistening gargantuan coils. To Jana’s utter horror, the monster got one mighty

coil about the ravening jaguar, and pulled him loose. If the snake got three

coils on him, Ghost was finished. But with this huge monster, even one coil

might suffice to choke the breath out of him.

     Ghost roared and raked riveluts  across the mailed hide, but the snake held

him fast.

    “I believe Ghost may be finished, Jana,” said Montaro. “Unless….” He rasied

the staff of power .

Chanted some arcane words in the ancient tongue, he cast the staff expertly it

sailed through the air, almost of its own volition, to embed itself in the

serpent’s neck just below the mighty hinged jaws. Great whorls of clor, unleased

by the Staff, swirled through the arir. The sanke reared its head, and swayed

there, as if suddenly paralyzed. Its grip on Ghost slackened, and the white

jaguar sprang free.

    Ghost snarled agnerly at the great reptile, his hereditary foe since time

immermorial, then padded calmly across the arena sands toward Jana. He began

cleaning himself.

    The jungle girl knelt beside him. “Good Ghost. You fought bravely. Breath

easily. You will be fine.”

    “I think you and I can now handle this snake.” Montaro said. Both of them

approached the great serpent, which remained paralyzed, as the crowd, including

King Tyrus himself looked on in wonderment. Montaro pulled free his staff.

     The monstrous snake hissed, as it slowly recovered from the spear’s magic.

The great head swayed once more, as it regarded the two humans before it as

food.

    “I believe whatever spell the king placed on this snake is broken.” Montaro 

said. “Try to talk to him again.”

    “I wish to set you free Slithor.” Jana said.

   The serpent hissed sharply, as though this time understanding the language of

nature.

    “But before I send you back home, there is one thing I need you to do for

me.” She prayed silently she could make this monster understand. “That man who

cast his spell on you is there.” She pointed dramatically at King Tyrus.,

causing some raised voices from the crowd. “he is our enemy as well. I ant you

to take care of him for us.”

    Mircaculously, the great serpent swung away from Jana, and slid toward the

box King Tyrus stood.

   Yrus stood stupefied for an instant, then screamed in terror as the long neck

of the serpent arched over the arena sands to pluck him from his box. The great

jaws fastened on to his robe, and lifted the struggling monarch out of the box

and onto the and of the arena.

  Prince Ibor stepped up to the edge and peered down into the arena.

   Jana called up to him. “King Tyrus is finished! He will no longer use this

serpent to terrorize you! She turned to address the people in the arena. “or any

of the citizens of Tyrion! There is a new king a among you from this day

forward! Ibor is now king of Tyrion!”

     And to the hoirrified astonishment of King Tyrus, there was a swelling of

applause, which started slowly and rose out over the arena like thunder.

     “You can’t do this!” cried Tyrus “You are outland prisoners, and I am

king!”

    “No longer.” Sad Montaro. “The popel see what jana and I have done.” He

reached down and took the crystal that was threaded string about Tyrus’s neck.

“You were controlling the beast by means of this.”

    “But no longer.” Said Jana. “Look!”

    Tyrus looked, and saw the guards standing behind Ibor above him. “They

support me now, uncle.” Ibor said. “you hold the power no longer.”

    “Then why don’t you let this thing eat me, then, and be done with it!”

    “No need to do that,” said Jana. “Now that your life is in our hands, I

prefer to allow Ibor to decide what to do with you.”

    With a few words from Jana, the serpent was sent slithering back down the

tunnel, finally to disappear into his native haunts beyond the underground

river.

     And so it was that Jana and Montaro liberated the lost city of Tyrion from

the grip of a tyrannical monarch. Ibor’s supporters seized control of the

Tyrionian senate, and gave him control of the monarchy. Ibor sentenced Tyrus to

the dungeons, and sent Jana and her friends free. He gave them a map showing

them the pass through the Mountains of the Mist into the lost world, and sent

his guard to escort them out of the Vale.

    Once they were safely beyond the cliffs, Richardson made certain that here

was where they would part company.

    “I will this map and go on,” he said. “I’ve risked your lives enough. Go

back to your own jungle. I must continue if I am to find what happened to my

son.”

     “No.” said Jana. “We’re in this together. We’ll go on with you. There are

more dangers beyond those mountains.”

    “I need to do this alone.”

    “I am afraid she is right.” Montaro said. “We cannot allow one man to go on

alone in this wilderness.”

   “What about you Doc?” Richardson asked Ben.

   “I’m in this too. You will probably need me, if anyone needs medeical

attention.”

   Ghost agreed also with a loud “rumph!”

   “Alright, alright!” said Richardson. “Come if you must. Who am I to stop you?

But there’s no telling what’s waiting for us ahead.”

      “That’s right.” Said Jana, even though she now had some idea. Tiko

chattered shrilly from her shoulder.

    “What is it Tiko?” Jana asked.

     The little yapok pointed. There, not a few feet away, coiled about a liana

vine was a small boa constrictor, too small to be a menace even to Tiko. But the

little animal hid in Jana’s hair, poking his little face out .

   “I’m afraid Tiko’s become a little nervous around snakes,” she laughed.

                                            FIN