Page 149 of The Lost Guardian

He heard some murmuring among Torres’s Huáscaros at the mention of Atahualpa’s curse, and he wondered how much they believed. Somehow, the tension in the room got thicker.

“You’ll have to start this all over again if I make the wrong choice and die,” Santiago snapped back.

“That would be worse for you than for me,” Torres answered. “Not only because of your death but because we would then have to send in Alliyma.”

Santiago squeezed his eyes shut, but only for a moment. He couldn’t fail. He was a Guardian. He was meant to do this.

He snapped his head up and located the rope that he was fairly certain held his next step. It was above his head, so he wasn’t sure, but he tracked it attentively. It lowered slowly, arcing toward him.

The same tingling certainty he had felt earlier vibrated within him again now. The curse was approaching. They were almost out of time. Santiago needed to act now.

He wasn’t going to be able to see if he was correct about the image on the stone until it was too late, but it would take too long to watch it circle another turn around the room.

When the platform was within distance, he jumped.

His feet slammed down onto solid ground, the stone mercifully not buckling beneath his weight. His breath released in a gasping exhale.

Underneath his foot was the carved depiction of a monstrous-looking beast that Santiago guessed to be a supay. A demon-like creature said to reside in Ukhu Pacha. Another symbol for the underworld and the dead.

He was only glad that he had been correct in his assumption and the drawing had not been some crudely etched depiction of a sheep by an unfortunately poor artist.

“Good,” he heard Torres again. “Keep it moving.”

It was easier now that Santiago had ascertained what he was meant to do. He scanned for images representing Ukhu Pacha, death, and Saturn. He managed another two successful leaps, and then he was in the center of the room.

There was a sharp breeze now, and Santiago was unsure if it was coming from the pit below him, the windows above, or a combination of the two, but it tousled his hair and made the platforms swing even more dramatically. His stomach turned, and he forced himself to swallow hard. He would not be sick, not there, not in front of Torres.

Santiago’s eyes flew back and forth, trying to find the next stepping stone. He saw a long, curved, cylindrical drawing and remembered that the Saturn god held a staff. It was only after he jumped that he noticed the curved protrusion from the supposed staff, making it appear more axe-like. Only then did his brain register the drawing as a weapon, or perhaps even a farming tool akin to a scythe. Whatever it was, it was not a staff.

Santiago didn’t even have a moment to swear. His feet hit the stone, and it caved in. With nothing bracing his weight, Santiago fell.

His hands reached for the rope, but it was not like the others that he had held until now. This one was smoother, with no rough texture to grip on to, and perhaps even lightly oiled to assist his sliding fall.

“Santiago!” Ali screamed as he plummeted.

Santi threw out his arms, desperately trying to catch anything that would keep him from falling straight into Ukhu Pacha.

His fingers grazed the rope of a platform beneath and to the left of his falling form. He wrapped his fingers around it, gripping furiously as gravity pulled his weight down, preparing for his hands to slam into the stone platform below.

That would be his moment.

He told himself that he was on the bouldering wall. He was about to jump a small distance to a hold he knew he could grasp. Nothing bad would happen if he didn’t, though. Just a short fall onto a padded mat.

A hairbreadth before it was too late, Santi released the fibrous tube and grabbed on to the platform it supported. He wrapped both hands around the cool stone, just as he had hundreds of times before.

He held on.

He thanked Inti for the strength in his fingers and promised to take the friend who’d introduced him to rock climbing not only to dinner, but on a round-the-world vacation.

The rope had burned his flesh and ripped chunks of skin off his palms, but he hoisted himself back up with trembling limbs. When his knees hit stone, he nearly cried with relief. He had only had a split second to see the platform to his right and its symbol—lightning, which was associated with Mercury. His only other option had been to throw himself to the left.

Thankfully, the left was one of Saturn’s platforms.

Santiago wrapped both arms around the rope, doubling over and hyperventilating. His legs shook, and he was afraid his muscles would falter, making his miraculous save irrelevant.

Somewhere behind the roaring in his ears, he heard a commotion—a screaming, pleading argument. As the world came back into focus, he made out Ali’s anguished voice.

“Let me go! Let go of me!” she screamed.