Curse of the Condor (15 page)

Chapter 20

The seconds seemed like hours as Conrado waited for Jetta’s reaction. He didn’t want to let her go, but he released her, knowing he no longer had the right to touch her. Her never did in the first place.

She stopped her crying and turned her tearstained face upward. His heart broke as he saw the fear in her eyes as she stood and backed away from him. He got to his feet and faced her, wishing she would yell. Wanting her to pound her fists into his chest and tell him she hated him the way he deserved.

“What do you mean, you killed him?” she asked in a surprisingly controlled tone. No more Ms. Schoolmarm reprimanding her student. This was the voice of a woman demanding to know the truth.

“I don’t even remember it happening, Jetta. But when I awoke after we argued, the missionaries found him dead. One of my darts was in his neck. The blowgun was in my hand.”

“You killed my brother.” Her voice quivered as the realization seemed to set in. “He was your best friend. Or was that all a lie too?”

“Jetta, please listen to me.” He stepped forward, but she stepped away, fear showing in her eyes. It tugged at his heart that he couldn’t hold her when he knew she needed it the most.

“He wanted to see the Cave of the Condor. The cave my parents died in. I never should have told him about it, but we’d been drinking. I never opened up my life to anyone like that before. I drank too much. I couldn’t think straight.”

“So you’re saying you were drunk and decided to just kill him?” She was appalled, and he knew he needed to explain quickly.

“No!” he said. “It wasn’t like that. He convinced me to show him the cave, and when I did, he wanted me to take him inside to see the treasure.”

“Treasure? So this is the treasure you accidentally mentioned?”

“Yes. I told him about the curse, but he wouldn’t listen. I brought him back to our camp for the night, but he must have sneaked back by himself.” He pulled the crystal condor from his pocket. “This is a piece from the cave. I’m sure of it. He must have gone inside.”

“For God’s sake, Conrado. Are you trying to blame your actions on a curse? You killed a man! You killed my brother. I hate you, Conrado Nievez and I wish I’d never met you!”

He turned away, not able to face her. He heard her crying, and with her tears he felt his life crumbling before him. Then he heard her running from him through the rain forest. Chatter squeaked from a tree above and swung on vines as he, too, left Conrado. He looked up to see the condor still sitting there atop the gravemarker, and in anger he picked up a rock and threw it at the bird.

“Damn you,” he spat. “You’ve ruined my life. Get away from me.”

The condor flew off without the rock hitting it. Conrado turned around to see Jetta was gone, and he purse was lying on the ground. He tossed the necklace into Jetta’s forgotten purse, never wanting to see the damned crystal condor again. Then in frustration, he scratched his nails over the condor tattoo on his upper arm, hating what he’d become. He sank to his knees and buried his head in his hands atop his good friend’s grave.

“I am sorry, my friend,” he said, gripping the dirt between his fingers. “I’m sorry for what I did to you and for what I did to your sister. I hate myself for it, and only wish I could change things. But now, it’s too late.”

Why couldn’t he have just died that day in the cave with his parents? He hated himself. He hated the man he’d become. He hated
El Condor.

He got to his feet, intending on finding Jetta, when a noise from up in the trees caught his attention.

He turned about abruptly, just as a figure leaped at him from the canopy above. He rolled over and over with the figure, realizing it wasn't a jaguar or other animal, but a human. A young Jivaro man.

He pulled back and ripped the knife from the man's hand. He recognized him as Motmot, the eldest son of the chief. Or in other words, his foster brother.

"Motmot, what the hell are you doing?" he asked in English, forgetting what he was doing, and then repeating it in the Jivaro language.

"I came to find you,
El Condor,
" he said in Jivaro. "Father wishes to speak with you."

"Well, why didn't you make your presence known instead of jumping on me like your prey?"

"I heard what you said to the dead man. You should feel no shame for what you did.”

“I do feel shame, MotMot. I used my blowgun to kill a man, and I don’t even remember doing it. He was the brother to the woman I love.”

He suddenly realized his blowgun was gone. Jetta must have taken it when his back was to her. She probably thought she could protect herself with it. How could she even touch it, knowing it was the weapon that took her brother’s life?

“I’ve got to find her, MotMot. I’ve got to find Jetta before she gets herself killed.”

Motmot grabbed his arm and held him from going. He continued speaking in the tribal language.

"Father wishes to speak to you. You must go to him at once.”

Conrado knew it would be a direct act of disrespect if he didn’t go to his tribal father. He’d not been back to the tribe in five long years, and had never really given a reason for leaving. He had to explain himself. He owed it to the Jivaro. But he couldn’t leave Jetta alone in the rain forest. He had to bring her to safety.

"I’ve got to bring Jetta back to the Yagua camp first.”

“No. You will come.” Motmot raised his hand, and a dozen Jivaro warriors came to his side. Conrado knew every one of the men, and tried to convince them he needed to go find Jetta, but they wouldn’t hear of it. An order given by the chief was to be obeyed. If they didn’t bring him back, he knew his tribal father would take drastic measures to see they were punished severely.

Several of the warriors stepped forward, grabbing on to Conrado’s arms and hair so he wouldn’t try to escape. Conrado fought them, but to no avail. He was no match for so many Jivaro warriors. He looked around and found his favorite brother. The brother that meant the world to him.

“Hoatzin,” he called. “Hoatzin, you’ve got to find the girl I was with. Take her to the Yagua camp. Please, help me, brother.”

Hoatzin hesitated. But when they dragged Conrado through the forest, he looked back to see his tribal brother headed in the opposite direction. Even if he couldn’t help Jetta, maybe Hoatzin could.

Chapter 21

Jetta ran through the forest crying, with Conrado’s blowgun clutched in her hand. How could she have trusted him? How could he have made love to her after he’d killed her brother? If only she had known. Her tears blinded her, and she fell to the ground, sobbing into the earth. Ryder, her only living blood relative was gone now, and she was helpless to do anything to bring him back.

She reached for the photo of him, but stopped when she realized she’d forgotten her purse. She was alone in the jungle with nothing now to bring her comfort. She figured Conrado would come after her, but she would fight him when he did. She wouldn’t go anywhere with that man. She’d use his blowgun on him if she had to. Just as he’d done to her poor brother.

She heard a noise from up in the tree, and stilled. It was either a jaguar or Conrado. She unwrapped the blowgun, knowing either way she’d be ready.

She took a poisoned dart from the cloth that bound them to the blowgun. She carefully loaded it into the hollow shaft, ready to shoot. The vast jungle closed in around her, and a sudden wave of fear washed through her. She immediately found herself longing for the protection of Conrado’s arms.

“No,” she said aloud. She didn’t want him near her. He was a murder, she told herself. She was better off without him.

But a continuous aching in her heart told her despise his heinous act, she still loved him. Confused and scared, she only wanted this nightmare to end. She wanted to wake up and find out it was all a dream. If only that could be.

"Who's there?" she cried, raising the gun to her mouth. Suddenly, she felt no better than a murderer herself. Was she really considering shooting Conrado? The thought repelled her, along with the fact that this was the gun that took her brother’s life.

She dropped it to the ground and wiped her hands in her shorts. No wonder Conrado hadn’t wanted her to touch it. Her eyes fastened on the blowgun, and horror flashed through her mind. How awful it must have been for Ryder. Her knees gave way beneath her, and she fell to the forest floor once more and wept bitterly.

A familiar chattering was the only thing that made her look up. There standing before her was Conrado's monkey, holding out a fig to her like a peace offering. Her stomach convulsed from hunger, and she grabbed the fig and ate it down in three bites. Then she ran a hand over the monkey's head and thanked him.

Chatter jumped around eagerly, his actions leading her to follow him to a tree. She looked up and saw more fruit hanging there, but beyond her reach. Maybe if she swung on a vine the way she'd seen Conrado do, she'd be able to reach it. Her mind told her not to try it, but her stomach told her otherwise. She grabbed a hold of the vine with two hands and swung.

* * *

The tribal warriors threw Conrado down right outside the hut that housed his Jivaro family. His packs and Jetta’s purse followed. His father, the chief who also was the tribal shaman, walked out of the hut with three women and many young ones following.

Conrado hadn't been back here since he'd left for Lima five years ago. He’d tried to come back when he’d led Ryder and the missionaries through the jungle, but Ryder’s death canceled that excursion. It felt so awkward to be home, yet so comforting at the same time. He greeted his Jivaro father with a nod of his head, then made a friendly gesture toward the women as well.

"I see you've taken another wife since I left," he told the chief in his native tongue.

"It is custom for a Jivaro warrior to have two or even three wives," he reminded Conrado. The scowl on his face said he’d still disapproved of the fact Conrado had refused to take even one of the Jivaro women for his wife. But being
El Condor
, they’d never forced him to comply.

He’d never wanted to marry, and had been very careful since the day of his coming-of-age that he didn’t leave any of them with child. He didn’t want a family of his own. He never wanted to go through the pain of possibly someday losing them as he did his parents. But since he’d met Jetta, his thoughts were changing. He was no longer sure of his beliefs.

“I saw the condor and knew you were near,” said his tribal father. “Why have you left us,
El Condor
? And what was it that brought you back to the jungle?"

Conrado didn’t like to be called
El Condor
, yet it was the only name ever used by the tribe. He was their savior, since he’d given them the antibiotics that cured their disease. They all worshipped him for something they’d thought he’d done of his own power.

"Father," Conrado said the word but yet it felt strange to him. He surveyed the short man with the dark hair who wore the tribal chief decoration of a headband displayed with their precious condor feathers, along with toucan feathers that were of the highest honor. He respected this man for raising him. Through the years, he had learned to accept him. He was thankful to this man who had spared his life so many years ago. But he no longer feared him.

Killing had always been a way of life for the Jivaro. Something to be proud of - bringing home the head of your enemy as a trophy of war. Conrado still didn't accept the Jivaro traditions, though they'd changed some by his influence among them. He once thought of them as cold-blooded killers, always a wall between them. Now that wall was removed. Conrado was truly one of them now.

"Toco," he called the chief by his given name. The name of the toucan.

"
El Condor
," the chief greeted him in return in his native tongue. All Jivaro were named after animals, usually birds. Conrado knew he was no exception. He just happened to be named after the bird they looked upon as some sort of god.

"I left to find my birth father’s family,” he told him. “Though the Jivaro were my new family, I never felt I fit in. I needed to tell them what happened so many years ago. They took me into their home with open arms for the past five years. I’ve been living in the city, working as a tour guide on the weekends, bringing foreigners to the jungle.”

“You’ve deceived us,
El Condor
. You’ve broken a promise you’ve made long ago.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” he said, getting to his feet.

“You revealed the whereabouts of the Cave of the Condor to an outsider.”

Flashes of Ryder went through his brain. So they knew. They knew he’d had a weak moment and shown Ryder the cave. He thought he’d been so careful in avoiding any Jivaro that may have been in the jungle that night.

“Yes,” he admitted, feeling a stab of guilt almost as strong as that of killing Ryder. I broke my promise. I did take my friend to the cave, but we did not enter. We did not disturb the sacred treasure of the condor.”

“That’s not what the condor says. The condor says you have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

With a nod of his head, his son Motmot walked over to his bundles, spewing them about the ground, and also the contents of Jetta’s purse.

“What are you doing?” he shouted, lurching forward. Two of the warriors held him back. Motmot found what he was looking for, and held up the crystal condor necklace for all to see. Mumbles of disbelief went up from the crowd, and the women moved their children farther away.

“You knew nothing was to be removed from the cave, yet I find this on your possession,” snapped the chief.

“I didn’t take it,” he said.

“Then who did? And why do you have it?”

He almost told them he’d found it around Jetta’s neck, but stopped himself. He didn’t want the Jivaro to accuse her of stealing it. Who knows what they’d do to her. He had to protect her at all costs.

“The only person who knew about the cave was my friend, Ryder. He must have sneaked back that night and entered while I slept.” Conrado didn’t mention the fact he’d been drunk. That would only make him seem weaker in front of these people.

“While you slept?” laughed Motmot, and the rest joined him. “A Jivaro warrior sleeps with one eye open. You are not one of us nor will you ever be.” He threw the crystal condor to the ground in disgust.

Conrado knew this was true, and he also knew Motmot’s words stemmed from jealousy. Though he was the chief’s eldest son, Toco had treated Conrado better.
El Condor
he may be, but also a failure by their standards.

“The crystal condor must go back to the cave,” the chief told Conrado.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But the man who took it cannot replace it. He is dead.”

“I know,” said the chief, and a mumble went up from the crowd. “Hoatzin told me three months ago he saw you kill the man with your blowgun.”

Conrado’s heart almost stopped by his words. So it was true. He’d really killed his good friend Ryder. He’d hoped in his drunken stupor he’d just not realized someone was setting him up. He hoped because he couldn’t remember doing the awful act, that he hadn’t. But if his closest brother said he saw it, then it must be true.

“Then by Jivaro standards, he is truly a warrior!” one shouted, and the crowd cheered. Motmot scowled.

Toco held up his hand for silence. He then dismissed the tribe, telling them he wanted to talk to Conrado, alone.

The man squatted to the ground in a half sitting position, and Conrado did the same. He rubbed his hands over his weary face, knowing Jetta now had a true reason to hate him. How could he have done it? How could he have killed his best friend?

“Something troubles you,
El Condor
.”

“Yes, Father. I have killed the brother of the woman I love.”

“You speak of the girl named Jetta. The American woman.”

He took his hands from his face. “How did you know?”

“The condor told me.”

Conrado shook his head and got to his feet. He’d had enough of this nonsense. “The condor cannot talk. Why do you keep saying that?”

“I am a shaman,” he answered, getting to his feet. “In visions, I am one with the creatures of the earth. I know what they think. They know what I think.”

“Well, do you know what I think? I think I’m sorry I didn’t die in the cave fifteen years ago with my parents. I’m sorry I ever came to live with the Jivaro. I’m not your savior and I’m not
El Condor
!”

“You love the woman, don’t you?” the chief asked with a squint of his eyes.

“And did the condor tell you that, too?”

“No. You did. I can see it in your eyes. You love her, but you feel you have no future together.”

Conrado bent down and started to pick up the contents of Jetta’s purse, shoving everything inside. He came across the photo of her and her family, and stopped. Her laughing eyes smiled up at him. His heart broke.

“Yes,” he answered. “I do love her. But now that I know I’ve killed her brother, we can never have a future together.”

“I don’t believe you killed anyone,” said Toco.

Conrado pushed the photo into the bag and looked up to him.

“Hoatzin saw me. How can you say that?”

“Hoatzin didn’t come back with the warriors I sent to collect you.”

“No, he didn’t.” Conrado got to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. “I asked him to look after Jetta.”

“He is true to you.”

“He is.”

“He would do anything for you,
El Condor
.”

Conrado knew this was so. While Motmot despised him, Hoatzin worshipped him. But still, he didn’t understand why his father even mentioned this.

“Why should this matter?” he asked.

“Look inside yourself,” said Toco. “Ask yourself what happened that night.”

“I’ve tried,” he said. “Just like you’ve taught me. But I didn’t get any answers.”

"Do you believe you killed this man?"

"I believe it was my poisoned dart that was in his neck. The one that cost him his life."

"Do you believe in love?" he asked.

What a strange question, coming from a man of war. Conrado had never seen this side of his tribal father and it intrigued him.

"What do you know of love?" he asked. "You are a Jivaro warrior."

"And I'm also a shaman,
El Condor
. I can help you find the answer. I can use my magic to call upon the spirit world. I can ask the same condor who brought you to us to show us who killed your missionary friend."

"That's nonsense," said Conrado. He met the face of an angry Jivaro in return.

"I will not offer again. You may live with your demons if you so choose."

"But how would the condor know? How can I possibly speak with it?"

"The condor is your spirit guide, son. He's been with you since you were a boy. The condor has looked after you and protected you in the physical sense as well as in spirit."

"Hah!" Conrado spat. “Protected me? The condor has never protected me. All the bird is to me is gloom and doom. It shows up to tell me trouble will happen. It shows up to take the lives of those I love."

"Are you sure?" asked Toco. "How do you know the condor doesn't show up to comfort you when you've lost a loved one?”