Chapter 14
My Dear Old Friend, The Capelobo
Lillian
STILL BLEARY-EYED from my late night of confliction and tears, I make my first appearance of the day.
It’s midday and we’ve reached our point of entry.
Stepping down from the gangway, my feet hit the solid earth, and I feel the necklace’s inevitable hum at my chest. I grip my bag a little tighter as I make way for equipment to be unloaded behind me.
A few of Bruno’s men eye me with smiles, no doubt reliving our merry time last night. The others, well, the others leave me be. They haven’t seen me today, and I almost wish they would just forget about me altogether.
I tell myself that I stayed inside for so long to conserve energy for today’s hike, but the crying took just as much energy as strolling the decks in the hot sun.
Ben has completely and totally ruined me. From his confession to the way he immediately turned me down, I can’t seem to free myself from thoughts of him.
The alcohol had clouded my judgment last night.
I’d thought perhaps with the conversations we’d had the nights before that maybe, just maybe, he’d understand my needs.
I thought perhaps I could convince him to take me as I was and let me explain my heart.
He thought I had convinced him, but then he had rejected it. It was Munich all over again.
I never commanded him to be my protector. I merely only ever wanted companionship. He’s given that to me freely for a little over a decade. So why can’t I respect his choices?
My head falls back at the thought of that promise he made me.
That decision, that damn vow he made on our way back from the end of the world, has ruined everything.
There’s no room for romantic feelings when he’s so insistent on protecting me.
He’s focused on the endgame of this expedition, and who could blame him?
My stomach roils at the thought of the mission and what awaits me today. It would be easy to let those dark thoughts devour me, but for the sake of the volunteers, I vow to myself to keep it together. When my breathing has calmed and the memories dull, I smooth my hands on my shirt and move inland.
Diederick stands alongside Oliver as the young man demonstrates how the radio works. The technology has come a long way from our large sets. Thanks to Bruno, we’ve been equipped with new mobile models. We’ll be able to break into groups and retain contact across short distances.
When I approach, Oliver looks up and smiles. Diederick pats the kid on the shoulder and moves around the equipment to walk with me. Oliver waves in passing but is altogether infatuated with his new radios.
“What will we tell the others?” I ask Diederick a while later.
Today we will follow the footsteps of other excursions past. A half-submerged boat groans against the flow of water not 100 yards ahead of where we’ve set anchor; a ghost just begging to be addressed.
Who knows what remains of our camp ahead.
“They know most of it” is all he says before waving me forward.
As we pass by a group of men with Ben at the center, I quickly avert my gaze. I feel his watchful eyes on me, so I pick up my pace. My companion doesn’t ask questions, just quickens his steps to keep up with me.
As we near the front where Mr. Bennett and Bruno wait, Diederick motions to the forest floor. “Any foresight about the…” He trails off, but I know what he means.
I call upon the whispers, and for once, they answer on demand. Gone. Gone, but not for long.
“Skeletons?” I finish for him. “Nothing. They’ve retreated.”
The hike is just as grueling as I remember. Bruno’s men whistle their tunes and mark the trail for future survey projects. I don’t have the heart to tell them that after this, they will never want to return here.
Due to our light travel and lack of large equipment, we’re able to reach our goal by sunset. The site that has haunted my nightmares lies just beyond a few dozen layers of trees.
Ahead, Mr. Bennett and Diederick pause the parade.
The two of them hop upon a tree stump to address the group.
Mr. Bennett speaks first. “Up ahead lies a camp that marked the end of the line for the group that came before us! You will pass through. You will not touch or take anything.” He pauses with a deep swallow—the first emotion I’ve seen from him that wasn’t indifference.
“This place has been deemed a gravesite.” Another pause to let the knowledge settle.
“We will camp a few meters beyond.” He nods to Bruno, who calls out to the group next.
“You know your roles. We will help our guests pitch their tents—”
“I call Ms. Williams’s!” a man calls to a round of jeers from his peers. I don’t miss the way James shoots daggers at the offender.
“—and then regular watch hours will commence.” Bruno’s face falls slightly, but he keeps the facade of safety. “From here on out, we are to be extra vigilant.”
“I think we can handle a few extra snakes!” a man calls out. More laughs.
Bruno’s smile slips. “Right,” he says. “The snakes.”
As he hops down from the stump, it occurs to me that I’ve never seen him so rugged and wild. His suit has been replaced with a plain button up shirt and trousers. Suede shoes swapped for heavy boots. I’m proud to see this side of him.
“What kind of snakes?” Margaret asks, slipping her arm around mine. I’m about to answer, but she motions for my bag before I get the chance. “I’m not carrying anything. Do you want me to carry your pack for you for a while?”
I try not to be too possessive when I shake my head and turn from her slightly. “No, I’m alright.”
She merely shrugs. “Okay, so what snakes are we talking about here? I hate snakes.”
“Oh, sweet girl,” I coo. Rather than tell her all the sorts of venomous and constrictor species to watch out for, I instead share how Ben had once killed one, moments before it could strike at me.
She practically swoons as we walk and then goes on to tell me about a former dalliance she had with a man who couldn’t even look at a spider without fainting.
Our laughter over past suitors carries us through the trees, and for a moment, I forget where I am. It lasts for exactly that: one moment. All the distraction is shattered when we break through a veil of vines into the overgrown mess that was the last place I saw my parents together.
The wind goes out of Margaret as she takes in the landscape. Shredded canvas flaps lazily in the wind while every piece of machinery has been reclaimed by the earth. She gasps when she sees the first sign of human remains.
“Do not linger,” James whispers, sweeping by us. He takes Margaret with him, leaving me alone.
Others are milling about, and as much as I don’t want anything to do with this semi-circle of dilapidated tents, I force my feet forward. I spare only one glance toward my parents' shared place, where I imagine the tea set is still residing on its silver platter.
And just like that, we pass through. There’s no ceremony for those still resting face down upon the earth, no words for them. If the animals haven’t been bold enough to carry them away, then I suppose we should not dally either.
With nothing but our thoughts to send the way of those dead, we continue on.
I even find the strength not to look toward the caves, the last place I saw my m?e.
My hand absentmindedly reaches across my torso and rubs the crooked fingers.
Even after we pass the path up, I do not let it pull me toward it as it once had.
There is nothing there for me now.
As we continue into the night, I swear I hear the wind whispering. With an open mind and open arms, I let it come to me with its clues.
Sombra de uma montanha, the disembodied voice says. It’s so loud, I think for a moment that perhaps the wind had spoken and not my own demons. Nobody responds, so I open my mind up to it and pray there are answers.
The whisper continues with the same message as before but stronger now. I suspect the whispers will not leave me alone for the remainder of the journey. As another wisp tugs hair from my bun, I take a deep breath and plunge onward.
Love had been their undoing.
All this pain felt by the women before me, tears, and a blind trust had been the end of the Lost Colony. Nova Esperan?a, they had called it.
New Hope.
The searing feeling of pain dissipates in trade for a new scene. Before me, the woman and the man who have often frequented my dreams stand in a room fit for royalty. Together they stand on a balcony overlooking their home.
As the two embrace, the woman’s eyes snap open wide and land on me. Unwavering, she demands of me to watch.
The pain instantly returns as the scene changes.
I am in the same room, but now the woman stands with a round belly.
She holds out the dagger in front of her.
From here, I can see it clearly for the first time.
It’s not completely unlike the drawings; the shape is correct, but no one could replicate the rich silver of the amazonite hilt and the soulless depths of the black blade.
I find myself reaching out for it when the woman’s urging words, telling me to watch, hit me again. I reign in my reaching fingers and do as I’m told.
The man takes it with a pleased smile. She’d given it to him, her husband, as a gift, as he had gifted her the necklace. Both gifts of the Amazon, they should have both been used for good, for light and healing.
But then the scene changes once more. Those bright eyes of the woman are replaced by the dark black eyes of the man.
He turns to their world at the window, to their colony that their peoples created together.
There is no goodness in his next act. He drives the knife into the soft stone of their mountain home and then…
The scene shifts again, and I have to blink a few times to understand. The forest is quiet. I’ve been left in the dark, the blueish glow of my necklace creating a bubble of guidance.
Lifting the necklace from its place below my sleeping gown, I raise it above my head and find that the forest does not surround me at all. Instead, I find stone walls and then a faint familiar growl reaches me.
The cave.
The capelobo.
“Why have you brought me here?” I scream.
The shadow retreats slightly, practically taunting me to follow it.
If I’m meant to die in that chamber under the mountain, then I doubt they will kill me tonight.
It’s a reckless belief, but I hold fast to it and move further into the cave.
The necklace only glows brighter as I go.
At its brightest glow, I stop. “Show yourself,” I call, this time much softer. Perhaps the capelobo has moved on, perhaps there is not a monster here at all. “Please, you’ve summoned me for a reason. I want to help you.”
Why have you come back to this place? a woman’s voice hisses.
There, but not quite there.
A shadow darts across the passageway ahead and I take another step forward.
My presence does not scare you. Why have you come back to this place?
I certainly did not choose to come back to this place. God, how did I get to this place? Had someone taken me here? Had I walked here in my sleep?
Now you cower?
“No!” I answer, taking one more step. “I’m here to understand.”
The shadow hisses the same riddle I’ve heard before.
Shadow of a mountain. Light of the Amazon. A sacrifice must be made before a new dawn.
The necklace glows so bright I fear it might burn out.
It holds steady.
“Yes. Yes, I want to destroy it.”
The shadow—a woman—lunges and grabs me by the wrist. I catch the brown of her eyes, the same eyes I saw in this very cave beside that mural.
Her touch might as well be a whisper on my skin, but her form is as solid as any human.
Do your companions wish the same?
Her question reaches me, but her lips do not move.
“Yes,” I answer firmly.
You dare lie to us? We, who are not of this earth.
“But you were!” I say in defiance. She hisses and then her hand releases me. “I have seen you before.” Here, in my visions, the girl’s mother.
My ancestor.
The woman freezes, her translucence flickering in and out.
Shadow of a mountain. Light of the Amazon. A sacrifice must be made before a new dawn.
“What do you want from me?” I demand, stepping toward her with more violence than necessary.
We have tried to show you, but you do not want to see.
“I want to see!”
A wicked smile and then she claps her hands, sending me to the floor at the sound of the echo.
The clap of the dagger against the wall sends a shudder through the world. In an instant, the lush and lively colony becomes overcome with shadows. Screaming and fire engulf every sense.
There’s a struggle. A wife fights a husband. A dagger is brought down over a heart but is stopped by the light.
My hand falls over my stone, a shield, the light of the Amazon.
As if he had been shocked, the dagger falls to the ground. Another flash of light, a skip in time, and then the dagger is in the hand of the woman.
It’s brought down on another heart, a blackened one. With nothing to save him, the dagger is driven straight into his chest with a grotesque squelch.
It’s not enough. The darkness drives them out; it lies in wait.
I can feel my grip on the dream slipping. I claw at it, willing myself to stay, to learn and understand. There are still too many blanks to fill. I beg the spirits to let me stay.
They don’t listen this time.
I come to on the damp, cold floor of the cave. The glow of my necklace is gone.
There is nothing but a gnawing darkness, the kind that could cause anyone to go absolutely mad.