She moved to the next door and the next, but found only more of the same. But the doorway at the end of the tunnel was different—wider, like the entrance, and covered with something that might have been an actual door, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. Gallo extended a hand to probe the dark barrier, and felt her fingers sink into something the consistency of peat moss. She yanked her hand back, but her touch was enough to collapse the rotted wood. As the damp pungent pulp fell away, dim light filled the hallway.
Gallo looked through the newly created hole and out into a vast plaza, surrounded by buildings like the one in which she now stood. In the courtyard, a series of stone terraces descended to a wide canal that surrounded an elevated mound, upon which had been built a structure that rose up higher than any of the other buildings in the city. The building was rectangular, with a gently sloping roof and decorative pediment held aloft by tall columns—the classic design of a Greek temple.
Gallo could only imagine what the courtyard and the temple might have looked like in the days of Queen Hippolyte and her Amazons. She wondered if the ancient Alexander Diotrephes, posing as Herakles, had stood where she now did. Was he the cause of the culture’s downfall? Did seizing the Queen’s belt with its map of the world, the key to the Amazons’ power, undo them all?
Whether or not that part was true, their society had survived, in some form, at least long enough for Orellana and Carvajal to have their encounter with the fierce warrior women for whom the river was named. The advance of European conquerors, with their guns and germs, had dealt the final death blow. There was only a memory of the city’s former glory now. Nature had reclaimed much of it. The terraces were thick with vegetation, and cypress trees had taken root in the canal.
“We need to get to that temple,” Gallo said. “If we’re going to find anything, it will be there.”
Dourado did not question this assessment. “Can you make it?”
“I have to.” She took a breath then faced the other woman. “Thanks for trying to help me. I didn’t get a chance to say it before. I was really surprised to see you.”
“I’m sorry. I thought I could… If I had known this would happen...”
Gallo took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Dourado returned the squeeze with a wan smile. “I guess I am, too.”
“Ready?”
Dourado nodded and together they began tearing away the rotted planks until the hole was big enough for both of them to walk through. Gallo leaned against Dourado every time she had to put weight on her injured leg, but the pain had finally subsided to a dull ache. She suspected that the quills had not penetrated very deeply and that the discomfort and inflammation was merely her body’s way of telling her to pull them out, but that would have to wait until she was ready to deal with the wounds. Right now, the quills were acting as stoppers, minimizing the flow of blood.
As they moved out into the open, a rustling sound came from above them. Gallo looked up and saw hundreds of white bird heads looking down at them. The creatures were everywhere, perched along the edge of the rooftops that ringed the plaza. Many of them stood with their wings fully extended, plumage puffed up in a display of ferocity. Dourado started to turn back, probably intending to bolt for the refuge of the building they had just exited, but Gallo held her back.
“No,” she whispered. “Don’t move.”
“But…”
“They haven’t attacked. I don’t know why. Maybe they don’t like how closed in the courtyard is. Just keep moving, slowly.”
She demonstrated, moving with exaggerated slowness, like a living-statue street performer. The birds continued posturing, but none of them took flight.
By the time they reached stairs descending to the next terrace, Gallo was certain that the birds were not going to attack, though she could not fathom what was keeping them at bay. She sped up to a normal walking pace—or as close to it as her wounded leg would allow—though she carefully avoided any sudden moves.
Each successive terrace took them further from the birds and closer to their destination: a bridge that spanned the canal and ended at a passage leading into the central temple mound. The canal was murky, thick with plants and trees, but not completely self-contained. A single channel led away, dividing the terraces before disappearing into the mouth of a large opening in the city’s foundation, a channel connecting the canal to shallow marshlands outside the city on the opposite side of their original approach.
Now that they were in the homestretch, Gallo gave up on stealth, hobbling across the bridge as fast as she could manage. The passage beyond was dark, but she could make out the base of a staircase spiraling up a central passage, and once inside, she could see daylight filtering down from above.