Page 67 of Wild Temple

The platoon leader shook his head. "This bad omen. This as far as we go.”

“What!?” Caspian exclaimed, irritated.

"The spirits are angry.”

Caspian tried to keep his cool. “The spirits aren’t angry!”

He didn't believe in any of it.

The platoon leader just shook his head.

"It’s cloudy and foggy,” Caspian said. “It’s not the spirits."

"Man die. Angry sky.” He pointed to the totem. "A warning.”

Caspian looked at the carvings on the totem with a wrinkled face. "That's not a warning. And even if it is, I’m paying you damn good money. If you want to see it, you’ll get us to the temple.”

The platoon leader didn’t like the idea. But after a slight hesitation, he told his men to press on.

More whispers drifted through the platoon. The men didn’t like it.

Eventually, the train got rolling again. With a gun at my back, so did we.

A freshly dead monkey rotted at the base of the totem.

Maybe itwasa bad omen.

We continued climbing up the mountain, marching through the fog. The air was still, and the jungle went quiet. I didn't hear a sound for the entire time we were in the haze—not the chirp of a bird, not a varmint in the bush. It was spooky.

We finally cleared the fog and emerged onto a level rise. Towering trees loomed overhead, weaving a dense canopy that turned the afternoon sun to dusk.

At first glance, it was easy to miss. Just more vines, moss, and jungle.

Then shapes emerged.

Ivy-covered stone slabs, thick with tangled vines, presided over the land. Hidden beneath the green weave were long-forgotten glyphs and carvings. Faint, like a whisper. Unreadable.

The temple was carved into the mountain. A giant face, chiseled into the stone above the main entrance, surveyed all who approached. With a cracked smile and narrow eyes, it was hard to tell if the figure was happy or angry. Was the grin a welcome or a warning?

It was easy to see why the temple had remained undiscovered. It would be impossible to see from above. Wind, rain, and time had ravaged the rocks, eroding them away toappear as barely more than natural features. Camouflaged by time.

"This is it,” the platoon leader said. "This is as far as we go.”

Caspian frowned at him, but the man had lived up to his end of the bargain.

"No enter,” he continued in broken English. "Very bad.”

Caspian laughed. “That's the whole reason we came here.”

The platoon leader held out his palm. "You give money now.”

He knew how to say that.

Caspian was in a rather precarious position. The platoon of eight men surrounded him with AK-47s.

After an annoyed grimace, Caspian dug into his backpack and pulled out a fat stack of cash. He put it in the platoon leader's palm.

The soldier's eyes rounded, and a slight smirk tugged his lips. He fanned the stack of cash to make sure it was all there, then dealt it out in equal shares to his men.