Page 43 of The Lost Guardian
Slowly, he and the professor identified individual words and pictures, occasionally doubling back—when seen together, some meanings would change entirely. At one point, José brought out two blank journals, one for himself and one for Santiago, with charcoal sticks and pencils.
Santiago accepted his gratefully, copying the images from the parchment and sketching out his thoughts and ideas. Finally, they were confident enough in their interpretations to write them down in English.
Amid the chaos and the horror, Santi couldn’t help the giddy warmth blooming in his chest. He was here, in Lima, working alongside one of his heroes.
New Insights into Post-Inca Pictogra— No, that was too specific.
Lost but Not Forgotten: The Journey to the Atahualpa…? Too commercial. He filed it away for National Geographic.
The Lost Tomb of Atahualpa: A translation of previously undiscovered documents related to the final resting place of the last Incan emperor…by Fernandez, J.M. & Rios, S.I. And…he tried to remember Ali’s last name. Palacios? They would have their pick of academic journals.
This moment could—no, it would—make Santiago’s career. He didn’t bother hiding the goofy grin that split his face.
“What does it say?” Ali interrupted his daydream. While Santiago and José had been working, she had paced around the professor’s office, shooting them impatient glances in between examining his collection of textiles and tools.
Instead of reading it himself, José passed Santiago his notebook, where they had haphazardly scribbled their observations. There were crude drawings and many words crossed out, but at the bottom, they had managed a fairly legible scrawl.
All eyes landed on Santiago, and he cleared his throat.
“A cage of stone, once embracing riches,
Now holds only spirits who whisper of gold.
Beneath a window that never saw light
Begins the story of the broken chain.
Follow the way of the ancients,
Their footprints still etched on the mountain’s skin,
And find the path that leads to its end,
Where stone embraces ghosts and gold again.”
There was a contemplative, profound quiet after his voice trailed away. Santiago shifted on his feet.
“Did you make the last two lines rhyme on purpose?” Ali finally asked, breaking the silence.
José laughed, then Santiago.
“It doesn’t!” Santiago argued, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.
“Close enough.” Ali smiled, cutting the tension that had smothered the room for far too long.
“It was a coincidence,” Santiago replied. It was not a coincidence.
“Well, I think that is fairly clear, no?” the professor asked.
Santiago nodded.
“Wait, what’s clear?” Ali threw her arms out to her sides. “How is any of that clear?”
Santiago grinned, anticipation growing despite himself. “Cajamarca,” he started. “It says that we need to go to Cajamarca for the next clue!”
“Cajamarca, is it?” a low voice said from behind them. The three of them turned in unison.
The elation left Santiago’s body. And his blood ran cold.
