It was then that I saw the idol.
The real idol.
It lay on the threshold of the portal, tilted over onto its side, at the exact spot where it had fallen from the rapa's mouth earlier.
With the length of rope still tied to my right wrist—it was about two paces long—I grabbed a sword and a torch from the ground beside me and ran for the temple, through the clashing of blades and the screams of the ravaged conquistadors.
I reached the portal and fell to the ground next to the idol, grabbed it -- just as one of the Spanish soldiers rammed into me from behind, bowling both of us in through the portal and into the temple!
The two of us tumbled down a set of wide stone steps, down into the darkness of the temple, a tangled mix of arms, legs, idol and torch.
We hit the bottom of the stairs and fell apart. We were inside a dark stone-walled tunnel of some sort.
My foe clambered to his feet first so that he now stood against the wall, in front of a small alcove set into it. I was still sprawled out on the floor, flat on my behind, with the idol sitting in my lap.
As the Spanish soldier stood over me, I saw the emerald necklace looped around his neck and I recognised him instantly. He was the wily older soldier who had relieved Renco of his priceless pendant earlier.
The old fox drew his sword, raised it high. I was defenceless, completely exposed.
At that moment, with an obscenely loud roar, something very large leapt over my head from behind and rammed into the conquistador at frightening speed.
A rapa.
The cat hit the Spaniard with such colossal force that he was thrown back into the alcove behind him. His head struck the wall with the most sickening of sounds and just exploded, cracking like an egg, a foul spray of blood and brains shooting out from the hole that was instantaneously created in the back of his skull.
The wily old soldier collapsed into the alcove, but he was well and truly dead by the time he reached the floor.
The cat began to ravage him on the spot, its tail licking back and forth behind its body as it did so.
I seized the moment, grabbed hold of the idol and charged back up the stairs, out of the temple.
I burst out into the night, thankful to have escaped death once again.
But my revelry was shortlived. No sooner was I out of the portal than I heard a sharp click-click from somewhere behind me, followed quickly by a coarse shout of 'Monk!'
I spun.
And saw Hernando Pizarro standing before me with a pistol in his hand, levelled right at my chest.
Then, before I could so much as move, I saw a flash of fire flare out from the end of the pistol, heard its loud report echo out all around me, and almost immediately I felt a tremendous weight slam into my chest and I was thrown backwards.
I collapsed to the ground instantly, after which I saw nothing but clouds—dark storm clouds rolling across the starry night sky above me - and it was at that moment that I realized to my extreme horror that I had just been shot.
I lay on my back, my teeth clenched in agony, looking up at the cloud-strewn sky, a searing, burning pain shooting through my chest.
Hernando bent over me and took the idol from my loose grasp. As he did so, he slapped me lustily across the face and said, 'Die slowly, monk.” Then he was gone.
I lay on the stone steps in front of the temple, waiting for the life to drain out of me, waiting for the pain to become unbearable.
But then for some reason that was beyond my ken, my strength, rather than fading, began to return.
The searing pain in my chest subsided and I sat up instantly and patted my chest at the point where the bullet had created a hole in my cloak.
I felt something there.
Something soft and thick and square. I extracted it from my cloak.
It was my Bible.
My three-hundred-page, handwritten, leather-bound Bible.
In the centre of it was a tattered round hole that looked like the burrow of a worm. At the farthest extremity of the burrow I saw a warped sphere of dull grey lead.
Hernando's bullet.
My Bible had stopped his bullet!
Praised be the Word of the Lord.
I leapt to my feet, exhilarated in the moment. I looked for my sword, couldn't find it anywhere, gazed out over the clearing.
I saw Renco on the far side of the clearing, fighting with two swords against two sabre-wielding conquistadors.
Two Incan warriors grappled with a pair of Spaniards not far from where I stood—they seemed to be the only
