Blood of the Incas: Time Raiders 1

By David Harris

Fearless historian and adventurer, Hiram Bingham risks all and battles storms, fire, Condors, cannibals and treacherous cliffs on his quest to find the lost city of Machu Picchu. this gripping new adventure should come with a warning for the faint-hearted. It's history, but not as we know it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jan 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9780730495420

David Harris

David Harris is a historian and novelist for both adults and young people. Among his many books is an account of his own search for the lost city of Li-jien, built by the ancient Romans in China. He lives in Adelaide.

Book preview

Chapter 1

February 1909

‘Steady.’ Hiram pulled the reins tighter. His mule scrabbled on the path.

‘Whoa! What’s going on?’ Hiram felt the mule’s fear. He wrapped the reins more tightly around his hands.

To Hiram’s horror, the mule’s hind legs skittered sideways in panic, kicking rocks off the narrow path. As the rocks fell Hiram thought, That could be me. The rocks hit the face of the cliff, bounced out into emptiness and tumbled, becoming smaller and smaller until they vanished. More than a mile below, clouds of mist swirled over the raging river. The roar of the river echoed around the canyon.

‘Come on, steady,’ Hiram snarled through clenched teeth. He dragged at the reins and leant all his weight away from the edge. There was no room for error. The path was cut along a cliff, which towered above and plunged down an abyss.

Ahead, Hiram’s guide, Castillo, leapt from his mule. Red poncho flying in the wind, Castillo yelled at Hiram. ‘Off, off, get off.’

‘What?’ Hiram’s heart pounded.

Thunder rumbled, but Hiram hadn’t seen lightning flash.

Zzzup … Crack. A stone whizzed down, hit the path and exploded.

Castillo crouched between the cliff and his mule, using its body as a shield. He waved frantically at Hiram to get off and shelter himself.

Hiram flung himself from the mule and against the wall of rock.

The earth rumbled and the mountain shuddered. For a horrible moment, Hiram felt as if the mountain was about to tip over.

Still gripping the reins, he knelt as low as his tall, gangly frame could go. His cheek was pressed against the saddle blanket. Feeling stupid, he realised one hand was holding his hat hard on his head. As if my hat will stop a boulder, he thought. But it was his lucky hat with the wide brim.

A dreadful grating noise came from inside the mountain. Vibrations shivered through Hiram’s boots and into his body. Zzzup, crash. White smoke puffed near the mule’s hoof. Sharp fragments stung the animal and hit Hiram’s jacket. The mule snorted and its leg muscles quivered.

Spurts of dust like machine gun bullets raced along the path towards Hiram. He winced in anticipation of the impact but they stopped a short distance from the mule. A great boulder thumped onto the track and bounced into the chasm. Hiram held his breath. Another boulder hit near Castillo, smashing away half the path. One or two smaller stones followed. Then Hiram felt the stillness. He stood up and patted the mule’s trembling neck and shoulder.

Castillo’s face appeared above his mule’s back. His floppy hat was askew. His almond-shaped, Peruvian eyes slowly returned to their normal size. Wind ruffled his thin beard.

‘Muy Accidentado.’ He smiled feebly, showing teeth stained from chewing coca leaves. ‘We call my land Muy Accidentado. He has many accidents.’

‘There’s one.’ Hiram pointed past Castillo. The path had disappeared. In its place was an avalanche of loose soil and rocks. Castillo made a face as if he’d bitten into a lemon. He pointed behind Hiram.

The cliff had sheared off. There was no path, only a wall of rock, smooth as glass. They were trapped.

Chapter 2

Castillo hitched his poncho, woven with red diamond shapes, tighter around his shoulders. ‘Soon is worse.’

‘Worse? How can it get worse?’

Castillo narrowed his eyes. ‘Trouble is coming.’

Hiram followed Castillo’s glance upwards. Dark, menacing clouds broiled along the canyon. A black curtain of torrential rain swept towards them. Hiram had one last glimpse of the sun, almost touching a snowy peak, before it was lost in the storm. Heavy raindrops hit his face, blown by a cold gust of wind. They stung like hail and pattered loudly on his hat.

‘What are our choices?’ He looked from the avalanche ahead, back to the sheer, broken cliff. He could climb across the rock face, maybe. But there was the storm closing in. Castillo was a mountain man, but not a trained rock climber, like him. Castillo would never make it across that slippery wall of rock. And Hiram wasn’t about to abandon his guide, or mules.

Castillo took off his hat and scratched his tangle of black hair. ‘You want to wait here?’

Hiram picked up on the uncertainty in Castillo’s voice. ‘Are you giving me the easy option?’

Castillo shrugged. ‘We must choose fast.’

Hiram looked over the edge. Hidden in the mists far below was their camp. Men would come for them tomorrow. Bring ropes. If they could get through. But this was not a good place to pass the night if there were aftershocks. What really mattered was across the other side of the canyon. He must climb that other cliff, scale the peak and go into those mountains. The ruined city was somewhere over there. Dammit. A mere earthquake is not going to stop me, he thought.

Castillo kept glancing at the avalanche of fallen boulders. It was about ten paces wide. Each step would be into treacherous, loose earth and rubble, which could at any moment slip over the precipice.

The wall of rain closed in. It hit Hiram like a waterfall. He gasped with the cold. Wind rushed over them. Hiram’s saturated sleeves and jacket flapped in the wind. Water poured from his hat.

Hiram made up his mind. ‘The avalanche.’

Castillo grinned. ‘Yes. Courage, Señor Bingham.’

Castillo led his mule towards the rubble. Torrents of water flowed down the cliff into the loose rock and soil, turning it to slush. Castillo put one boot in carefully. It sank to the ankle, but that was okay. His pulled the reins. His mule snuffled like a baby about to cry, but tentatively put one hoof in.

Step by step, Castillo waded backwards, coaxing his mule across the top of the slush. Chunks of earth and rock broke away, turning over and over as they fell, down, down, until they punched holes in the river mist and disappeared. The mist closed over the gaps as if nothing had disturbed it.

Castillo dragged his mule onto the path. ‘Hurry,’ he called.

Hiram stepped into moving soil. It was like wet concrete. His mule held back, stiffening its neck. Hiram dragged at the reins, easing the animal into the slop. Water gushed around Hiram’s boots. Rafts of soil broke away with every step and slid over the edge and away. Walking backwards, with a steady pressure on the reins, Hiram kept talking, soothing the mule, one step at a time. The soil became wetter as they moved along, rapidly changing from concrete to quicksand. The animal’s hind legs sank deeper and it bucked in fear.

Hiram’s right heel touched solid earth. Without warning, his jacket slammed up against his windpipe, strangling him. A violent force lifted him by the back of his collar. Backwards and up, he crashed onto the path. His panic-stricken mule lunged after him, and Hiram was wrenched away from the kicking hooves.

Flat on his back, struggling to breathe, he looked up at Castillo’s wispy beard, blown by the wind. Castillo smiled nervously and let go of Hiram’s collar. ‘Sorry.’ Castillo’s smile faded. ‘No time. Run.’

Splits and cracks in the path snaked towards them. The path was splitting from the cliff. The earth beneath them turned to jelly. The path curled away, like surf breaking along the top of a wave.

Chapter 3

By the time Hiram