Warriors of the Sacred Garden: Mila: Iron and Silk

By E. I. Landa

Deep in the heart of Amazonas, in the Cloud Forest, a baby girl is born: Mila Tzofia Ferro, whose name means "warrior, wisdom, and iron." Many years before, in the same place, an exceptional gift was entrusted to a group of warriors called the Cloud People. While Mila's life will lead her away from Amazonas, she will inevitably be drawn back to the cloud forest and its secret. But first, Mila must confront her own.

While still a baby, Mila's father becomes trapped in the web of the Norfolks—a family of powerful pharmaceutical tycoons—and pays for his entanglement with his life. As Mila grows up, she faces more challenges, including the discovery of her unsettling abilities. Yet Mila is also blessed with a strong, loving family: her caring mother wants to show her the beauty of our world. Mother and daughter move from Peru to Italy to Switzerland to Israel — gaining knowledge in each place that will come to serve Mila later. Shortly after they return to Peru, Mila meets Eli, a young, kind American scholar with his own strange abilities.

Just as Mila and Eli begin to fall in love, the Norfolks attempt to procure an archaeological artifact found in French Polynesia. But they are not the only ones interested in the black-market artifact. As this remnant from Amazonas resurfaces, a chain reaction is set off and Mila understands she must come to terms with her roots, the reason for her unusual upbringing, and her unique abilities in order to fight alongside the people she loves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. I. Landa
• Release date: Aug 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393323914

E. I. Landa

E. I. Landa is an autodidact who fervently pursues everything that ignites a fire in her heart and mind. She writes fiction in mashup genres: Sci-Fi, Adventure with some elements found in spy stories and romantic ones. The birth of her son gave her the courage to write: Warriors of the Sacred Garden: Mila: Iron and Silk, and the sequel soon to be completed: Awaken Warrior. When she isn't inside her mind exploring imaginary worlds, she travels to see the beauty of this world with her own eyes. She enjoys raising her son, reading, listening to music while taking long walks in nature, painting and learning new things. During the work day, she is busy mentoring high school students in the art of learning foreign languages. E. I. Landa lives with her son in a peaceful Midwestern town, which is her launching pad to a great voyage around the real world and imaginary ones.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Peruvian Region of Amazonas, c.1470 A. D.

Day was breaking after a night downpour. Clouds cloaked the dense green walls of the forest like a veil of soft cotton stretched over the jungle. The misty aroma of wet earth and blooming plants lifted from the soil to the leafy canopies and to the sky. Solitary condors glided above the encircled fortress, following the scent of death with sharp eyes peering at the carcasses and future prey below.

Another body for the hungry beast! Goran grumbled, throwing another lifeless Quechua into a deep grave prepared for assaults on their peace. Another unnecessary blood bath to our name.

No, my brother, it’s a curse from the Highest. Time is fooling us. Perhaps we have been around too long, reliving the aches of the world, time and time again. Arlet narrowed his eyes at the sight of the bodies piling inside the mournful pit next to the fortress’s main entrance. He, with the rest of his people, had rebelled against their own vicious nature, pursuing peace with an incessant thirst. This must be a test. What else could it be, if not to tempt our war-craving souls?

Perhaps is it the human heart that is fooling itself, said Amidor, closing another Quechua’s eyes while reciting a prayer before letting the body drop into the pit. Centuries seem to have passed that we were there in the mist of those voracious rebellions and devastating battles, brothers. Time has recorded the blood forever in our memory. But we might have grown too proud of our peaceful ways.

At the foot of the great stone snake named Kuelap, the Quechua soldiers continued their provocations, blasting arrows. However, with no response from the other side of the citadel’s massive walls. Hundreds of Quechuas accustomed to great exploits, marched around, hearts pounding as loud as their steps and shouts. It would be a glorious victory for Inca Huayna Capac, Son of the Sun, if they could entice the Sachapuyo into war. If they could only reach the interior, they would drag the Sachapuyo men and women to Qosqo, the sacred city of the Quechua empire, for a life of servitude. Moved by this thought, the Quechuas darted their bronze and bone-tipped spears, aiming high with confidence. Much was at stake. Inca Huayna Capac had ordered the victory. It was a God-given order for every soldier, and a much-needed win for his ruling.

Proud or blood thirsty, we have made an oath to the Highest. Life over death! stated Goran, cleaning his spear and hoping it would be the last time.

The massive stone walls of the fortress hid these sublime beings from sight and the secrets that would guarantee them the victory. In the blink of an eye, the Quechua army would be but dust on the very ground they stood. But these Warriors understood death as the sole outcome for those who basked in the delusion of power for the sake of it. Therefore, disregarding their unusual talents and innate bellicose inclination, they embraced a peaceful way of living within their borders.

The Quechua army was losing momentum. Huayna Capac’s loyal men, hundreds of them, lifted their bows and arrows and ran up the steep and narrow path, causing a meteor rain over the clouds protecting the bastion. They pushed their way up to the entrance for the hundredth time. However, arriving at the gate prepared for just one man at a time, the unfortunate souls found nothing but death. One fighter after another raised his battle-axe before a splendid being as never seen in the realm of the living, a glorious giant, like an angel of death, pierced their hearts with his spear.

The natives from the Amazonian villages, not knowing if these beings were humans or angels, named them Sachapuyo. A word that in the local’s indigenous tongue meant Cloud People. Why had they received such a name? Perhaps because of their seclusion inside their fortress. Kuelap seemed to touch the heavens, covered by impenetrable clouds on the highest mountain top.

Or perhaps it was their height. They were like their ancestors, hybrid-beings of marvelous seed known as giants at the beginning of time. The Cloud People exceeded their place and time from their beginning. However, aided by their acute adaptable nature, they gained less conspicuous statures, while still surpassing locals by a few feet. Those paying close attention could assert that the Sachapuyo’s exuberance came from a dimension hidden to the human intellect, for each warrior was an exquisite sample of human and divine attributes, and the very reason they kept to themselves, attending only those brave or desperate enough to seek their help.

When will they understand Kuelap cannot be breached? I designed this place to discourage invasion. They run to their death through the only entrance their limited perception allows them to see. They will never find the other two. Hadi, an intense man, dark as a black panther, complained to Elzebe, a tigress standing at his side. The Sachapuyo followed the Quechua ruler, Inca Huayna Capac’s every move.

Well, if anything, they win the price for stubbornness. I ache to see them laboring this hard, and for what? said Hadi standing in his cloud-covered stone tower.

For nothing at all, brother! Elzebe answered, hand in the pommel of her sword, ready to jump the walls to engage in the fight.

What are they looking for? A miraculous portal? Borah said from his post in the second tower, his dark eyes observing the labor outside filled with contempt.

Look at them; around and around they go, Beldah scorned, her pale skin gaining color from the fire in her chest. What is it, Jericho?

You cannot blame them for trying. They are soldiers, sons of our very own brother Ayar. We should not expect anything less, said Gadiel, the youngest of the selected group of Healers. He stood next to his mentor, Mikael, the highest Merappe, the oldest of the Healers. Both men peered through the clouds on the front lookout.

We must put an end to this! Leo roared from his tower, as if sealing a tacit agreement. Turning to the oldest Healer, he pressed, Give us the order, Mikael. Let us finish this vain pursuit now!

Stop, my brothers. Although we have the power to do so, we must not, Mikael said in an ancient form of Hebrew, the language that gave away his origins, and the language of the Healers. Mikael glanced at the army outside and discerned Huayna Capac’s heart intentions, for such was his special ability. The Healer, solid like the watchtower in which he stood, stable and robust despite his several hundred years of age, didn’t give in to pressure. Patience was the strength of the wise. Despite his high position in the community, Mikael carried a humble Healer tunic made of fine alpaca wool, a tree of life carved on his silver breastplate with an engraved inscription reminding him and every Healer: choose life so you may live. His square face sheltered a pair of shrewd brown eyes capable of piercing the clouds surrounding the fortress in search of the thoughts inside the Quechua minds. It wasn’t his age or his ability to read the minds or see into the future with discernment that earned him respect in the community. It was wisdom. A gift the Highest Power had given him to lead ancient men and women gathered from every corner of the world and united by one purpose, to live peacefully, cultivating their botanical knowledge and medicinal powers for healing.

What do they want? Ash sank his deep blue eyes on a fallen arrow and, picking it up, he broke it into particles. What are they looking for?

Trouble, answered Hadi amused, examining the arrows with their fire dying on the ground. Our brother Ayar taught these Quechua well.

They want exactly what every ruler wants: land and skills to make their empire grow. The young Healer Gadiel shook his head.

Healer Mikael, we have to do something! How many of these fools my spear must pierce? Goran grieved. Another Quechua soldier died with eyes wide open, seeing nothing but a golden being, beautiful and terrible as lightning. How many must die in vain?

"Mikael, we do not have to touch them. If we release the poisonous gas, their deaths would be a bloodless and painless transition to their Uku Pacha, the world below as the Quechua believe. Give us the order," insisted Leo, dressed in full armor, finely woven alpaca wool and a tunic of copper threads, a light but strong bronze breastplate, and a pair of leather boots made for any road or condition. He drew his sword awaiting the order.

My brothers, we could finish them now and continue with the rest of our duties unaltered, but must I remind you of the purpose for which we came to this land? Mikael faced the warriors and their families gathered in the square, awaiting orders. Those Quechuas are children of our brother Ayar, as Gadiel cautioned us. It was Ayar who, after turning his back on us, brought together those nomads and gave them purpose. He knew the ancient world first hand, as we also do. Ayar established Tawantinsuyo, their kingdom, and although he is not among them anymore, they carry a fragment of his soul that we should honor.

The Healer climbed down the tower to address the people in the square. They had been ignoring the army outside for days. But it was time to act. "Those Quechuas suffer by their desire for expansion and power as it has been the norm since the beginning. We know very well. You, Xian, and your brothers were in the battle of Rouran Turkic. Aegeus, you still remember what happened in Ionia; do you see the similarities between Cyrus and Ayar? Knud, you and your clan participated in many coastal raids until you parted ways and came here with your Healers. Should I go further back in time?

The war scars on our skin remind us of what we left behind. Now, the natives of this precious land have told us about Huayna Capac’s methods, as many other Incas have done before him. Natives of other cultures have lost their land and their children for a broader Inca empire. Many of those captured and made slaves are out there ready to fight for their ruler. We have seen it before, my brothers; we know where that bloodshed leads. The violence they live by is taking them through the path to the destruction of their empire and with great affliction. The humiliation they will endure by wicked men from across the oceans breaks my heart. Mikael closed his eyes, keeping silence for the fate the Inca empire would suffer. However, it will not happen today. I assure you, it will not happen by our hands." Mikael looked down as he finished talking. The children were tagging at his tunic. The Healer gazed at them with a smile. He sat on a bench and let the children approach him playfully as children often did.

But could we give them a slight taste of their future? Gad asked, amused. "I am not talking about killing them, but giving them frightening hallucinations, disturbing dreams of days to come with a little brew of the psychotria viridis shrub and Banisteriopsis caapi vine. Something that would take them back to Qosqo or Cajamarca in a sprint. What do you say, Healer?"

The community roared in laughter although considering it an innocuous suggestion to force the Quechuas to retreat.

Good idea, Gad! Let us drip the tincture into their water! said Elzebe, retrieving from her leather pouch a bottle with a medicinal liquid intended for a patient. "Our children will pass on the story of brave warriors defeated without the sword but by Rhamnus purshianus sharp bowel movements and aches."

The Quechuas marched back to Qosqo in triple the time... Why? asked Leo, his eyes blazing with mischief.

Because they had to stop five hundred times along the way! Arlet howled in laughter with the rest of warriors.

The elder Healer cleared his throat, ordering the community’s attention. What I hear in the leader’s mind alarms me, said Mikael, unmoved by the community’s humor or war appeals from the Quechuas. Huayna Capac is desperate to secure his rule in the empire, and he suspects we have something extraordinary for his kingdom. Although he does not know the extent of our knowledge, he has heard rumors. Mikael’s stern voice echoed throughout the community. It is the warning we knew would arrive one day. We must hide the Garden of Life before he or anyone worse finds it.

While the warriors were deliberating, a few stones reached the inside of the fortress, and one hit Liam, an African warrior, on his shoulder. Without a second thought, he picked up the stone and tossed it out for a few war casualties, grinning until Mikael’s heavy gaze fell on him like a boulder. Liam shrugged and pointed to the pebbles and fiery arrows the opponents were shooting in hopes of reaching the heart of a Sachapuyo, but it never happened. The few arrows that made it past the clouds fell without aim inside the fortress like a weak fire rain, flames dissipating in the air before reaching anything flammable.

I know what would stop this now and forever, Leo declared, his blue eyes burning with the fire of a possible encounter, but he couldn’t finish his statement; the Healer began to speak.

We have achieved a life of peace for so long. Would we throw everything away for these little stones and arrows? Would poisoning them or breaking their bones guarantee us another century of peace? Our existence and preservation belongs to the Highest. Mikael pointed outside the walls. Those Quechuas are faithful to their nature, their times, and their surroundings. Remember the empires we have seen and even fought for? Every time, one worse than the other emerged. Time, my brothers, echoes the past. If you doubt my words, look at these Quechuas. What do you see in Inca Huayna Capac’s eyes? Isn’t it the same desire we saw in the eyes of the others? Watch his thirst for power, isn’t it the same yearning that overthrew the kingdoms of old, time and time again? Yes, their end is near, but it is not for us to hurry their fate. Mikael’s words spread like wildfire through the minds of those listening.

So, what should we do? Goran asked, casting another unfortunate Quechua into the pit. We must do something, or they will keep hurting themselves trying to get in the fortress!

Mikael let his gaze roam through the community. We will lead them to our water supply and let them figure out how to cut our water flow to force us to come out of the fortress. Then, we will honor them with a satisfying fight while we close the Garden. Mikael turned to address the astonished community. Wisdom tells me that our knowledge has exceeded our time. We must hide our House of Life now. Gadiel! Leo! Hadi! Amidor! the Healer called, standing up.

Here we are, Healer. The warriors ran to stand before the Healer in the square surrounded by every member of the bastion.

The four of you will accomplish a great task! Go to the Garden and close its walls as planned for this time. After you complete your task, go to Angel Mountain; the hideouts are ready.

What will happen to you? To the community? Hadi asked, deep green eyes moistened by sadness. He gazed at his friends that he would leave behind.

We will keep the Quechuas occupied, fighting as simple mortals with no help from special powers or plants to weaken them, Mikael answered before addressing the rest of the community. My brothers and sisters, you are free. Choose your path, navigate the oceans, find new lands! Here there is only servitude.

Would this Inca with such a mockery of a battle force us to move? Just like that? We have our abilities and weapons to give them a good scare, ending this now! I do not see the need to break our community, Hadi bellowed like a gigantic tiger. He met the gaze of the little ones born in peace, those that knew nothing of blood or war beyond what they had been told. Kuelap and the Garden were their home.

Brave warriors, it is not about them or us, but about the Garden and the secret the Highest gave us. Once people understand the magnitude of our work in the Garden, as it often happens with power, it will persuade hearts to take it. It will poison their human consciences to turn what is good into evil. Remember what our ancestors taught us: power is nothing more than a mirage, a sand fortress that easily crumbles, destroying everything within and around, Mikael spoke, burdened by centuries of history. Life on this planet showed us that there is a place and a time for everything. It would be a great arrogance to think we are the only ones of our kind left and that our seed will die today. I assure you as it is the promise of the Highest, that when the time is right, other warriors of light will come together, and will know what to do with the Sacred Garden and our work.

But our people! Our families! cried some men and women holding on to their children and glancing at the stone homes and gardens and the forest wrapping them in green and beauty.

My brothers and sisters, choose the freedom presented now. Leave and start anew, for if you stay, you must surrender to these common men, pleaded Mikael, embracing his people with his gaze. He received their anxious thoughts and bore in his heart the weight of their aching souls. Know that no matter where you live, you will prosper with the land that hosts you. The Highest is with you as He has always been. Use your knowledge for a good pursuit and flourish!

Everyone fell silent, weighing in their minds the past, the present, and the future. The battles they fought in the ancient world were the reason they had set out on a great odyssey through seas in search of a place to pursue peace. They had passed on their experiences from one generation to the next, so young hearts could seal in their minds the divine origin to which they belonged, and the devastation that violence caused. The hybrid warriors had navigated the oceans in vessels made by the Highest’s instructions. They had sailed the world until the sea joined a grandiose water serpent called the Amazon River, but it was in a conglomerate of land and water, so pure and so prodigious with vegetation and high mountains, that the ancient warriors settled. But the day to part had arrived. Some Cloud People, took their children and left the community that used to be their home. Those who remained stood by Mikael’s side—they were old warriors, too tired to move around the world again.

Outside, Inca Huayna Capac and his army kept up with their provocations, oblivious to the decisions being made inside Kuelap’s walls. Time seemed to stop. The stubborn attack of the Quechua fighters resounded tirelessly despite the futility of their attempts. The wind danced through the forest carrying their shouts as a warning throughout the region. The sun was high in the sky, but the fortress remained covered by a thin fog like a delicate cotton curtain protecting the watchtowers and treetops inside the walls.

Gadiel, Amidor, Hadi, and Leo were standing in front of Mikael the High Healer, ready for their mission. Mikael handed them a small bottle containing a tincture that could have been a magical potion, but it wasn’t. It was a carefully developed elixir prepared in the Sacred Garden, a botanical laboratory where Healers worked to understand the power in plants and produce cures for ailments afflicting the world. It was this House of Life that the four were set out to protect.

"Drink it when you are inside your hiding place. This blend of atropa belladonna, and valerian roots will help you endure the passing of time and remain unaffected by it in every way. Its effect will vanish the minute intruders open the sarcophagi. You must believe it to be a sign that the Garden is in danger, and your time to fulfill your purpose has come."

The Warriors received the tincture and kept it safe in their leather satchels. Then they bowed their heads, opening their minds for the Healer to search inside. Mikael put his hands on their heads and bowed with closed eyes, almost forehead to forehead. He listened to their fears and concerns but also to their hopeful courage. After discerning their thoughts, Mikael dried his eyes, knowing they were the right warriors for the time-bending task. The Healer bid them farewell, placing his right hand on the right shoulder of each warrior one at a time.

Gadiel, youngest Healer. Mikael looked straight into Gadiel’s almond-shaped amethyst eyes. May the peace of The Highest be upon you, my brother Healer!

Peace, Healer, answered Gadiel, bowing down to accept the blessing.

Leo, Hadi, and Amidor received the blessing and farewell from the elder Healer. Heads lowered, they turned and left without looking back.

The four men rappelled down the bastion’s massive back wall and hurried through the beaten trail, cutting through the thick of the jungle. Each with a breaking heart, but a mind fixed on the mission. They rushed swiftly and nimbly, leaving mosses and ferns aside, and thick tree trunks to conceal their steps, until they reached the raging Marañón River’s edge. They jumped into the wooden rowboats Healers used for their travel from Kuelap to the Sacred Garden. Aided by experience and strength, they braved the savage current, water twirling and foaming around the boats, cutting through to the other side.

From here we have a day’s journey, brothers! said Gadiel, shaking the water that splashed onto his long alpaca wool shirt, which was sealed with a thin layer of beeswax. Their leather trousers and boots were wet, but they didn’t care. The natural materials were water resistant, easy to dry, and light to carry despite the rainforest’s moist environment.

The four Sachapuyo darted through ancient trees dressed in thousands of orchids and paradise plants hanging copiously from their branches. Curious monkeys, capybaras, and jaguars observed the runners from a safe distance, cautious but unperturbed. The air was humid with a trace of wet forest, but pure life to breathe.

The warriors entered the complex through the massive stone walls draped in all colors of mosses and epiphytes. Thousands of orchids cheerfully spread long and wide, coating every space and crack on the rock. It was the House of Life, their Sacred Garden, the place in which plants and the study of their chemistry and medicinal properties met. It was a laboratory, a hidden space in the planet in which ancient, hybrid Healers worked without rest.

They were immersed in their innate curiosity and the desire to further their understanding and learning. The Healers experimented, analyzed, and blended local plants and the foreign ones they brought from their homes, the lands around the world where they had been. The Healers worked with careful minds, knowing well the tempting power of life and death entrusted to them by the Highest. Every discovery, study, and research was carefully cataloged and kept with great zeal in paper made out of the inner bark of woody and leafy plants like banana, fig, walnut, hibiscus, mulberry, as well as grass like the papyrus some Healers brought from Africa. However, moved by losses of information through fire, the ancient Cloud People had also stored their knowledge on thin, portable stone tablets. In this way, they ensured their knowledge and wisdom from all times would pass on to all generations of Healers.

Peace, Healers. Gadiel announced their arrival to the group working in the herbarium, where a delicious scent of geranium, sage, and stevia impregnated the air.

Peace, Gadiel, a Healer answered, grinning at the sight of the youngest Healer in the community. I have something to show you. But what brings you around? the Healer asked as the rest of the delegation entered. Every Healer in the garden stopped their activities.

The Quechua army is trying its luck again, Gadiel replied, understanding the Healers’ worried gaze. However, the time has come. He made his way through the natural laboratory followed by the Healers. He crossed the large herbarium, then the arboretum where trees and shrubs were sharply organized by their respective taxonomic groups.

What do you need? We have something potent you could use in the battlefield, one of the Healers said, prepared to go in search for the formula he had developed.

The delegation and the Healers following them entered a garden with a house at the other edge of the Sacred Garden, far from the laboratory. There were people from different tribes, those brave and desperate souls that dared to seek help from the Cloud People. They waited their turn to be assisted while some Healers examined the sick and prescribed their remedies. They lifted their surprised gazes, stopped their labor at once to listen.

Healers, please, finish attending the people, send them home, and come join us for a meeting, commanded Gadiel, making his way through to the other natural chambers in the complex to stand where everyone could hear him.

Mikael has seen the times. The Garden of Life is no longer safe. Gadiel faced his audience who stood around a pond covered with giant water lilies. It was an open area where they held their meetings. Mikael has directed us to hide this House of Life before others try to use the knowledge stored here for their advances. Each of us knows firsthand what the rapacious nature of the human heart was, is, and will be. We came from a world of struggle and bloodshed; we understand the danger of having life and death in our hands. Gadiel gazed at the vastness of their garden. Today we close the laboratory until the Highest brings us back. You are free men and women. Sail the seas again, create a new life, or if you so wish, stand by Mikael in Kuelap.

What had been given to us is now taken away. It’s heartbreaking, but we knew this day would come! the Healers answered, dividing in groups and moving swiftly through the green corridors, assisting the four warriors to prepare the chambers for closure.

The knowledge entrusted to us, will remain in you and inside this jungle. Go in peace, Healers! Gadiel addressed his fellow scientists, feeling their pain.

Once we set these walls in motion, the vegetation will finish the job! declared Leo while pulling down handles in every space.

The walls slid with a rumbling sound, the earth tremoring in protest, until they interlocked in position and disappeared from sight, covered by a prodigious and living green veneer.

Once the laboratory had disappeared, out of sight by the ingenuity of the builders and the accommodating vegetation surrounding it, the Healers departed—some to sail the seas and some to fight as mere humans by Mikael’s side. And the four chosen marched through unmarked roads. They delved into the virgin forest until Angel Mountain was in view. At the foot, they closed their eyes for a short rest before facing the rocky giant and the climb to their hideout: the sarcophagi embedded into the rock.

Back in Kuelap, the Sachapuyo warriors offered Inca Huayna Capac and his army a convincing fight worthy of the Quechuas’ prideful heart; yet, the price the Cloud Warriors paid to protect the House of Life was high.

Courage my brothers and sisters, courage! This grievance will not last long, said Mikael, the High Healer, to the warriors remaining by his side.

Some of the Sachapuyo, half-angel, half-human, abdicated their special abilities and powers to become mere humans. They allowed the Quechuas to take them as trophies to the Center of the World, Qosqo, the holy city of the Tawantinsuyo empire. But as Mikael had foreseen, a band of criminals arrived to vanquish the ‘new’ world in the name of a Queen and a God. By gun powder, savage labor, and smallpox, they spread death through the land.

This army, heart-sickened by insatiable greed, made a corpse of whomever stood in their way of looting, finding, and exporting precious metals and treasures to Spain. Thus, the Crown grew stronger among their neighboring kingdoms, becoming an ephemeral golden bridge in the traffic of gold. Nevertheless, what the Spanish monarchy gained with blood and deceit, with blood and deceit their treasures were taken from them.

As the elder Healer Mikael had predicted, the end of the Inca empire came to pass. Sapa Inca Huayna Capac, Son of the Sun, ended his days drinking from a bloody cup of violence. And the Spanish conquistadors, Sons of the Catholic Crown, after falling from their bridge, were never able to regain power or wealth.

However, the real golden treasure, the House of Life, the Sacred Garden of Healing Science, hidden in the jungle, was never found.

PART I: Coming to the Light

CHAPTER 1

With the Name, Comes the Life – Amazonas, Peru, 1985

Armies of ancient trees supported crowns of copious vegetation tangled with luscious greenery broadening, ascending, and hanging everywhere. This botanical kingdom also hosted other types of living creatures capable of leaping, gliding, and flying. It was life as raw and pure, and as symbiotic, as flora and fauna living in Mother Earth’s womb.

The dwellers provided food for the soil, and in return, the plants supplied fruits, seeds, flowers, and leaves for all inhabitants within. And the uneven canopies with its billions of leaves produced power for the forest. They were miniature solar converters of sunlight to energy, transforming atmospheric carbon dioxide and water into precious oxygen for all.

It was a sweet and wild disorder surrounding the Bosco house in the heart of Amazonas, the Cloud Forest. The house built with wood, mud, and rock from the site itself, blended elegantly in its green and wild environment. The high walls and stairs splitting the house made the second floor the highest tree house in the area. The elevation provided the