Golden Disk of The Sun: Book 1 of the Star Walkers Trilogy

  GOLDEN DISK OF THE SUN

  Book One of The Star Walkers Trilogy

  Michael Cole

  Copyright 2012 Michael Cole

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  PROLOGUE

  Eladio heard the mosquito buzz by his ear. Under normal circumstances he would have brushed the bothersome insect away, but today he didn't dare move. He knew the puma was close by. Although he'd laid the trap for the big cat carefully, he instinctively perceived that any movement on his part could scare the animal away. Uncomfortable sitting in his lofty perch nestled between two tree limbs, Eladio thought back to what his father had told him. It was two weeks ago on his fourteenth birthday that his father had taken him aside. "Eladio, my son. It's time for you to become a man. You must follow the ways of our village and kill a puma. Once you do this, you will skin the cat and wear his fur to keep you warm."

  Eladio recalled asking, "How do I do this, Father? The puma is very swift, and I have no way to protect myself from its deadly fangs and claws."

  "Man is smarter than the most cunning of animals, even the puma," his father had answered. "You will dig a pit. In that pit you shall place bamboo. Use your knife to make the points sharp. Then kill a tapir. Drain its blood over the leaves of the fern branches that you will use to camouflage your trap. In time, the puma will come. Remember, you must be patient and sit very still or else you will fail-and if you don't come back to our village wearing the fur of a warrior, you won't become a man."

  Eladio had followed his father's instructions. He was much more afraid of not accomplishing his task than he was of the puma's teeth and claws. He'd sat in the fern tree for almost two days. Although his muscles ached from misuse, he was afraid to stretch them. If he made the slightest sound, the puma might not come, and then he would have to return to his village in shame.

  Eladio was glad it started raining again. The rain was insurance against the puma picking up his scent. He swore to himself. The mosquito was now feasting on his blood. Very carefully he pried the vermin off his cheek, grinding it to a pulp between his fingers.

  Listening for any unusual sounds, Eladio heard the raindrops as they splattered against the dense vegetation of the Amazon jungle. Then a different sound caused his heart to skip a beat-the rustling of leaves. He knew it had to be the puma. Afraid if he breathed he'd give himself away, Eladio closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and waited. He could only hope the cat's hunger would win out over its instinctive, cautious nature.

  The silence was broken as the puma fell into the pit, its growl barely audible as the dying cat attempted to extricate himself from the sharp bamboo spikes penetrating its flesh. Within a few minutes the rustling stopped, and the only sound Eladio heard was the rain. His father had warned him that pumas often hunted in pairs. Remembering the words of caution, Eladio sat in the tree for another two hours waiting for dawn.

  In this part of the rain forest, a perpetual gloom existed. This was because the sun couldn't penetrate through the thick canopy of trees. Eladio could see little more at midday than at dawn, because in the Amazon the dense, swirling fog enveloped the jungle like a shroud.

  Climbing down from the fern tree, Eladio cautiously approached the trap. He was relieved when he saw the dead puma, its magnificent torso impaled by several pieces of bamboo. Once he removed the carcass from its deadly hold, Eladio took the task of skinning the hide. It was then he saw the half-exposed object buried in the dirt. Curious, Eladio used his knife to dig around the object so as not to damage it. To his amazement, he found a small, sealed aryballos. The vessel's shape reminded him of a type of squash his father grew in the vegetable garden; however, the relief decoration and the writing were unfamiliar. He luxuriated in the knowledge that his father would be proud of him. Not only would he be returning to his village a man, but he'd also bring something of value to the household, something that could be traded.

  It took two days for Eladio to descend from the steep Pico do Papagaio Mountain, the highest peak in the state of Pernambuco in Brazil. Once he was within earshot of the people in his village, he wrapped the puma's hide around his shoulders, oblivious to its stench. Hacking his way through the dense vegetation with a machete, Eladio approached his father's hut with pride.

  When his younger brothers and sisters saw the fierce-looking head of the cat resting benignly on Eladio's shoulders, they screamed with delight. His mother was not as pleased. "Get that animal off you and let its hide cure. It stinks." With his ego slightly bruised, Eladio walked outside to look for his father, knowing he would be proud of him.

  That evening his father let him sit with the other men around the fire. Pride showed on Eladio's face as the elders passed around the aryballos. His father told and retold Eladio's story to anyone willing to listen. Each time the story was repeated, it was embellished upon with such ardor that Eladio himself began believing in his mighty prowess. If one were to believe the tale, Eladio had seized the ancient artifact from a sorcerer who had attempted to cast an evil spell on the boy. After slaying the magician with his machete, Eladio had purportedly placed the man's soul inside the gourd-like jar, sealing it. Of course, no one bothered to ask the all-important question as to how a fourteen-year-old could have single-handedly accomplished such a feat.

  After all the villagers had seen and held the aryballos, Eladio's father instructed him to take a raft to the town of Belem de Paro and trade it for something more useful. "Shouldn't we open it first to see what's inside?" Eladio asked.

  "To open it would only diminish the value of the object. If you look closely at the jar, you will see that it has a picture of the Star Walkers."

  "Didn't you say they were gods? And that they descended from the sky long, long ago-even before Great Grandfather was born?"

  "Yes, my son. I have been told they built fabulous cities deep within the Amazon, cities that have been lost to the jungle."

  Eladio traced one of his fingers over the image. "I think you are right, Father. Maybe I should leave it alone."

  Looking at his son, Eladio's father smiled. "Besides, we wouldn't want the evil soul of the sorcerer to escape, would we?"

  Later, Eladio managed to convince a merchant in Belem de Paro to trade a blanket and some corn seeds for the aryballos. He knew the blanket would please his mother, and the corn seeds could always be used in the family's garden.

  * * *

  Eladio swatted at the bothersome insect, but his reflexes were much too slow for the mosquito. He could remember a time when his eyes were much sharper than they were now. Sitting cross-legged by the embers of a dying fire, Eladio pulled the tattered puma hide closer to his body in order to ward off the morning cold. Although it was now threadbare, it still managed to keep the chill off his old bones.

  The young boy sitting by Eladio's side tugged on his wrinkled hand. "Tell me what happened then, great warrior. Did anyone let the evil spirit out of the sealed jar?"

  Eladio looked fondly into the inquisitive face of his great grandson, wondering where the time had gone. "This I do not know. I remember my father telling me about the strange picture-writing on the aryballos. He said it was the language of the Star Walkers."

  "Who are the Star Walkers?" asked the bo
y.

  "You mean to tell me your father has never told you about the Star Walkers?"

  The young boy's eyes became wide. "No, please tell me about them."

  Eladio wrapped a portion of the puma's hide around the shivering boy. "One day, many, many years ago, the Star Walkers came. They arrived from the sky on shimmering golden ships. Like gods they descended upon our land. They were the ones who gave our ancestors the wisdom of the ancients. Had it not been for them, we wouldn't have the potions and elixirs to cure the sick."

  "Did you see them, Great Grandfather?" asked the boy.

  "No, my son. Neither did my father or his father before him. As I said, this all happened a very long time ago. But I did see a picture of them. It was on the water jar. You see, many, many years ago our tribe lived in the city of Akakor. Right before the Star Walkers came, the city was destroyed by a powerful earthquake. Many died. Had it not been for the Star Walkers, we, the Ugha Mongulala, would not have survived."

  The boy nestled closer to Eladio. "Do you think Father will let me hunt for the puma?"

  "Yes. Soon the time will come when it will be your turn to venture into the jungle for your own hide. Then, you too will become a brave warrior."

  The boy looked up into Eladio's wrinkled face. "Maybe I will capture an evil spirit and become famous like you."

  * * *

  The ancient aryballos passed from hand to hand many times. Eventually, it fell off a barge into the Amazon River. Because the aryballos was buoyant, it bobbed up and down the watercourse. Eventually it came to rest on the shore among a pile of debris close to the city of Manaus, Brazil. It lay there half-buried for several centuries. It would still be there had it not been for an occurrence of fate.

  CHAPTER 1

  Eric Shade wondered if he had made the right decision. Four months earlier, he had been an assistant professor of South American history at the University of New York. And now he was unemployed, sitting in a bar in Manaus, nursing a beer. It had all happened so suddenly.

  A colleague of his father's had sent him a telegram informing him that his father had left Manaus on a quest to find a lost city in the Amazon and was never heard from again. A hard punch to the stomach would have been much less painful.

  Eric worshipped his father. Jonathan Shade was dedicated to two things: archeology and his son. When Eric graduated from high school, he joined his father on an expedition to look for lost cities in the Amazon. After spending almost a year in the jungle, they had found Ingregil. Eric would never forget the day because had it not been for a fluky occurrence, they might not have come across the ancient ruins. His father had been wielding a machete, trying to clear a path in the jungle, when his blade hit a section of a stone pillar that had been totally obscured by vines. The dense vegetation had literally swallowed the city, but, nonetheless, there it was. The discovery had made headlines, probably because for the first time archeologists could actually prove that South America had a past, a past much older than anyone had ever imagined.

  From that point on, Eric decided he wanted to be an explorer just like his father. But that was not to be. Jonathan Shade had insisted Eric attend the University of New York. They argued. At that time in his life all he wanted to do was see some of the world so he joined the Army. Because he was an outstanding soldier, one of his company commanders recommended he attend officer candidate school. As a second lieutenant, Eric opted to join U.S. Army's Special Operations Forces, and eventually became a Green Beret. He was assigned to an elite unit nicknamed the "Night Stalkers." Time and time again, Eric proved himself as a soldier. He attended flight school, became a helicopter pilot, and flew his fellow Green Berets to strategic "hot spots" in various parts of the Islamic world. When Eric completed his tour of duty, mainly to please his father, he attended the University of New York. Much to his surprise, he enjoyed the world of academia, became an outstanding student, and in time, received a doctorate in South American history.

  An argument on the other side of the bar brought Eric out of his reverie. "Don't talk to me about how tough life is around here. How'd you like to skipper a barge up and down the Amazon River? A couple of months ago, my first mate stuck his hand in that river. When he took it out, all that was left were a few pieces of flesh hanging from his bones."

  "You really are a pussy, you know that?" a Caucasian man wearing a tattered baseball cap responded. "You should have warned your first mate that there are thousands of piranhas in that damned river. They swim in schools, you know."

  They were on their feet ready to trade blows when a waiter walked up to them with a couple of beers. After placing them on the table, he said, "You two better knock it off. We don't allow fighting in here."

  The two men quieted down, and Eric's thoughts drifted back to his father. In addition to being an exceptionally good field archeologist, Jonathan Shade was also an excellent tracker and guide. His father was very capable of taking care of himself, particularly in the Amazon. That's why Eric was convinced he must have encountered foul play.

  Upon hearing the news, Eric hadn't think. He'd just acted. He could have requested an emergency leave, but no. Like a fool, he had left the chairman of his department a note and took the first plane to Manaus. Now, here he was, sitting in a bar, almost broke. Eric had gone through most of his savings looking for his father, but it was as if Jonathan Shade had never existed.

  Eric's thoughts were shattered by the sound of glass breaking. The noise caused a roomful of people to stop talking. The man holding the broken bottle wore a baseball cap. He waved it menacingly at a mestizo who was sitting in a chair several tables away. "You son-of-a-bitch," Baseball Cap said. "Come any closer and I'll ram this piece of glass up your ass!"

  A bruiser the size of a freight train stood up. "What do you think you're going to do, cut me?" the man said in broken Portuguese. "I'll take that bottle away from you and slit your throat with it." Appearing out of nowhere two other mestizos sidled up next to Freight Train.

  Baseball Cap picked up a chair and held it as a shield to ward off a possible attack. "Come on, motherfuckers," he shouted. "I'll cut out your tongues!" A scuffle ensued and within seconds two of the three mestizos had Baseball Cap down on the beer-stained floor.

  Freight Train took out a switchblade, and when he pressed the button a long, tapered knife suddenly appeared. Placing a smile on his face, he took a few tentative steps toward Baseball Cap. "I'm going to carve your heart out," he said, raising the knife.

  The blood coursed faster in Eric's veins. He only had a second to decide. Is Freight Train posturing or is he planning on using the knife? Without any regard for his own safety, Eric flew off the bar stool and kicked Freight Train's arm with his boot, sending the menacing blade flying through the air. Freight Train let out an expletive and sprung toward Eric, who simply lifted up his knee and hit the man in the groin. Freight Train grabbed his crotch and yelled out in pain. That enabled Baseball Cap to ward off the other two mestizos.

  "Do you have a death wish or something?" Eric asked Baseball Cap. "These guys are apt to cut off your balls and stuff them in your mouth."

  "Not without a fight they won't," Baseball Cap replied.

  What's your name?" Eric asked of the man who had been foolish enough to piss off the mestizos.

  "Chris Bordeaux. What's yours?"

  "Eric. Eric Shade. I think it would be a good idea if we left this place. Don't you?"

  Chris nodded, then shook Eric's hand. "Thanks for helping me."

  "You are quite welcome."

  "Can I buy you a beer?"

  Eric glanced around the room. "Yes, but not here. By the looks we're getting, I think it would be wise for us to leave while we still can."

  Chris laughed a throaty laugh. "Good idea. My place isn't far from here. How about we go there?"

  CHAPTER 2

  Eric liked Chris. The younger man had come to Manaus from Le Havre, France. To hear Chris tell the story, it was either escape to South America or be nabbed
by the gendarmes. He had read about Manaus; the Brazilian city was far enough away where he could start a new life. That was three years ago. In those days, Chris didn't speak Portuguese, but then a person didn't have to speak the language to obtain a job as a dockworker. The only requirement was a strong back.

  Chris told Eric that he led a relatively simple life. He would work at the docks Monday through Friday and on weekends would spend his hard-earned cash at a few of his favorite watering spots. By Monday, he was out of money so he would hit the docks to earn more. It was a cycle he hoped to break.

  That evening, Chris laid a sleeping bag out on the couch and suggested Eric crash at his place. Upon Chris's invitation, the next day Eric took the few belongings from the hotel where he'd been staying and moved in with Chris. The place was just a shack, but it beat sleeping on a park bench, which is what Eric anticipated he would have had to do when his money ran out. The two decided to team up and work together as guides. Eric spent the little money he had left on some advertising and within a few days they had several tours lined up. It turned out to be a good partnership. Chris helped Eric guide tourists into the Amazon while Eric reciprocated by keeping Chris out of trouble.

  Occasionally, the two would end up at one of the local bars. Eric drank less because the initial shock of losing his father had worn off, and Chris didn't brawl quite as much because Eric wouldn't let him. Chris looked upon Eric as an older brother he'd never had, and Eric enjoyed looking out for the younger man.

  * * *

  Sweat pummeled off Eric's forehead as he strained to apply additional pressure on the man seated across from him. Just when it looked like the arm-wrestling match would turn out to be a tie, Eric's opponent's arm hit the surface of the table with such force that it knocked a couple of beer bottles to the floor. Eric peered into the eyes of his challenger. "Looks to me like you'll be buying the next round."

  "Shall we have another go at it?" the man asked. "I'm game if you are."