The Condor Stone
An excerpt
"I am coming down myself now, with the knife."
He ran the rope that joined them round a smooth, raised knob of rock on the vertical face rising from the top path round the pool.
Carefully, so as not to flick it over the smooth protuberance, he pulled experimentally on it.
It slid down behind the life-guarding protection and he climbed slowly down to where Illa was teetering on the tiny platform, paying out the rope to keep it tight.
He looped the slack round his waist and stood beside her, leaning well forward over the water to get the best possible grip on the wet rock.
The girl attendant, left on the narrow top path could hardly believe her luck.
It was going to be so easy, to wait until they were both leaning out over the water to spear a fish, then she would jerk the rope over the knob and they would both fall straight into the water.
It was impossible to climb out after falling in and the underwater currents would suck them under.
Illa crouched down on the tiny stance, which was slightly smaller than the length of her foot.
The curaca (headman) balanced on the sloping rock above it.
"Where are the fish?" She was shivering at both her terrifying position and also the cold draught generated by the icy water, which entered the pool at one end, through a conduit below water level and which was sucked out again through a hole in the bottom.
In spite of the speed of the water's movement, it was absolutely silent; silent with swirling, black menace.
"They will come" The curaca withdrew his hand from under his cloak and scattered some particles of food on the water.
Most of them floated away towards the centre at ever increasing speed and vanished abruptly under the water.
More food was thrown in, over a wider area and there was an immediate disturbance under the water, flashing bodies could be seen, rising swiftly from the depths.
A series of splashes announced the taking of food, as at least a dozen fish erupted out of the water and disappeared again.
The girl attendant had almost reached the smooth knob of rock which held the lifeline.
She glanced back at the entrance, there was no one in sight.
She looked down at her quarry, they were absolutely intent on the task in hand.
She edged closer to the worn belay.
The knob was smooth from long use and was safe only when the pull on it was downwards.
One swift heave would be all that was required.
Down at the pool side, Illa looked back at the curaca as if to say "Well, what now?" He threw some more bait onto the water and produced the knife.
The gems in its handle sparkled and the blade gleamed dully.
No sunlight ever penetrated this far, the surrounding walls were vertical.
"Can you use this?" He asked uncertainly.
Illa took the ceremonial knife and awkwardly tested the point and the blade.
Neither was very sharp.
She weighed it in her hand, it was very heavy.
"I have never stabbed anything in my life" she wailed, "I do not know how to or where to hit the fish's body."
On the path above, the attendant crouched down and slid her body under the taught twin ropes securing the two at the pool.
All she had to do was to stand up and her shoulders would pick the two strands off the life-preserving belay.
Further eruptions showed that the fish had returned to take the bait in increasing numbers.
They both leant out over the water, all their combined weight supported by the lifeline.
The treacherous girl heaved herself upright with all her strength.
The rope slid easily over the knob and with nothing to restrain him, the old curaca pitched straight into the black, swirling water.
Illa was standing almost upright; almost, but not quite.
She screamed in terror, wobbled perilously, then agonisingly slowly, arms and legs flailing, she also toppled into the seething whirlpool after her hapless guardian.
The Condor Stone by Nick Smyth
Dust Jacket Hardcover (6x9) ISBN 9781438906126
Paperback (6x9) ISBN 9781438906119
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