Free Temple by Matthew Reilly Page B

shadowy
rooftops. I looked up into the darkness. Renco and Bassario were
nowhere to be seen—

'Monk!' someone called suddenly from behind me.

I turned and saw Bassario come running up with his longbow in his
hand.

'Well, you couldn't have fouled this up any more, could you, monk?'
said he with a smile as he leapt up into the sad dle of one of my
horses. 'All you had to do was scare the horses.'

'Where is Renco?' I inquired.

'He is coming,“ said Bassario.

Just then a series of shrill, angry screams swept across the plaza
and I turned instantly—and saw the row of manacled Incan prisoners
charge as one at the Spaniards in the plaza.

The Incans were free, no longer joined together by the long length
of black rope!

Then suddenly, I heard a death scream and saw Renco up on one of
the rooftops—standing over a fallen conquistador, hurriedly taking
the fallen man's pistol, while six more Spaniards hustled up the
stairs on the side of the building, chasing after him.

Renco looked down at me and cried, 'Alberto! Bassario!

The gate! Go for the gate!'

'What about you!' I called.

'I'll be right behind you!” Renco called back as he ducked under a
musket shot. 'Just go! Go!“

I leapt up into the saddle of the second horse.

'Come on!' Bassario cried, kicking his horse.

I spurred my own steed and shot off the mark, turning the beast
sharply so that it charged toward the gate.

It was then that I turned in my saddle and saw a most amazing
sight.

I saw an arrow—a pointed arrow, not a flaming one— soar across the
plaza from one of the rooftops. Trailing behind it, wobbling like
the undulating body of a snake, was a long length of rope—black
ropethe rope that had bound the row of Incan prisoners
together!

The arrow shot over my head and, with a firm smacking sound, lodged
in the intact upper half of the big wooden gate. No sooner had the
arrow hit the gate than I saw the entire length of rope behind it
go taut.

And then I saw Renco at the other end of the rope—up on one of the
rooftops standing with his legs splayed wide, with his newfound
satchel draped over his right shoulder— saw him lash the leather
belt of his Spanish pantaloons over it, and grab hold of the belt
with one hand. Then I saw him leap off the roof and swing—no,
slide—down the length of the rope, over the entire plaza, hanging
onto the belt with one hand.

Some Spanish soldiers opened fire on him, but the dash ing young
prince just used his free hand to pull his pistol from his
waistband and fire it at them while he slid at incredible speed
down the rope!

I spurred my steed on, increased her speed, and pulled her in at a
full gallop under Renco's rope just as he reached the end of his
slide. He released his grip on the belt and dropped down perfectly
onto the rump of my horse.

In front of us, Bassario leapt like a seasoned horseman through the
enormous hole in the wooden gate. Renco and I followed close behind
him, riding double, vaulting through the gate amid a hail of wild
gunshots.

We burst out into the cold night air—riding hard across the massive
stone slab that formed a bridge over the city's northern moat—and
the first thing I heard as I raced across that bridge was a roar of
total and utter jubilation from the hoards of Incan warriors in the
valley before me.

'How's it going?' a voice said suddenly.

Race glanced up from the manuscript and for a moment was
disoriented. He looked out through the small window to his right
and saw a sea of snow-capped mountains and an endless expanse of
clear blue sky.

He shook his head. He'd been so absorbed in the story that he'd
forgotten he was on board the Army cargo plane.

Troy Copeland stood in front of him. He was one of Nash's DARPA
people, the hawk-faced nuclear physicist.

'So, how's it going?' Copeland said, nodding at the bun dle of
paper in Race's lap. 'Found the location of the idol yet?'

'Well, I've found the idol,' Race said, flipping through the
remainder of the manuscript.