Chapter 2

A stroll through the jungle

            A fortunate thing often considered about living in Cape Suzette was the weather, which for most days of the year was warm and sunny, and most particularly about the present time of the year, when spring would soon be melding into summer, the thick fringes of jungle surrounding the city shone crisp shades of green, and the skies were often left pure and cloudless to pleasantly brighten the city streets.

            Yet not everyone was thrilled with sunshine...

            At the heart of the city, amidst a broad cluster tall buildings, stood grim and intimidating the tallest skyscraper in the world, casting a shadow that crept across the town like a great sundial. It was the headquarters of Khan Enterprises, often referred to by the locals simply as "The Tower," where Shere Khan himself spent much of his time commanding his vast corporate empire from the height of his gloomy office, perched dozens of stories into the sky.

            At approximately eleven forty-five that morning, Shere Khan visited a walk-in vault located near his main office, with a key and a small slip of paper in his hand. The stainless steel walls consisted almost entirely of drawers, containing personal files, records, and other confidential documents.

            He knelt down and unlocked one of the bottom compartments, which was notably larger than the others. When he pulled it open, he read the note he held once more, then set in inside. It was an intercepted copy of the same telegraph Tyler received earlier at Higher For Hire.

            Inside that particular compartment were two stone-encased tomes, excavated from the Atronador Basin, one of which Don Karnage had once stolen a year prior from Alpacito City. They rested atop a collection of numerous articles attaining to Felocian history, maps of Alpacatan, and sketches and photographs of city ruins and ancient curios.

            Khan reached inside and took out a small box that lay in the back corner. Its wooden exterior was finished to a glossy shine, like a jewelry case. This he took with him before shutting the compartment.

            Back in his office, a copy of the corporation’s quarterly fiscal report lay on his desk for his review. However, that morning he had other things on his mind. He sat down, resting the wooden case on his lap, and swivelled around to face his massive office window, overlooking the greater part of the city.

            Planes of all shapes and sizes whisked though the bright sky, which was a sharp contrast to the dreary darkness inside Khan’s unlit office. Far down below, cars and pedestrians cluttered the streets, looking nothing more than scampering ants from his vantage point.

            He flipped the top of the wooden box open, where a small, diamond-like stone was nestled in a cushion of soft silk cloth. But this was no ordinary gem... it emitted a soft light that illuminated his amber eyes like smoldering timber.

            For most, such an object might provoke amazed expressions, but the tiger’s calm, composed face would hardly show indication of such feelings. He held it in his fingertips and silently gazed with rapt fascination. He was as intrigued with it as he was when he purchased it years before.

            The intercom on his desk clicked on, and his secretary's voice broke the silence in the room. "Mr. Khan?"

            He put the stone back inside its case and shut it, sealing away the light, and turned to face his desk. “Miss Snarly.”

            "Mr. Richter has arrived."

            "Yes, very well. Send him in immediately."

            From the far side of the office, Jesse Richter stepped through the heavy double-doors. Against the background lighting, his hulking figure appeared first only as a silhouette, accented by the long, stretching shadow cast at his feet.

            "Morning, Mr. Khan," said the grizzly. His attire was among the most vulgar ever to be seen in such a strictly formal setting as Khan's office... he wore green camouflaged fatigues, torn at the left thigh, where bandaging was revealed around his leg. He had his trusty machete strapped to his hip, black combat boots that clapped against the floor like bull hoofs, and a white, sleeveless shirt that unabashedly bared his muscular frame. Khan glanced at him from head to toe, but kept his disapproval to himself. He also noticed a limp that Richter tried to hide with long, confident strides.

            "Mr. Richter, you're aware of the missive from Alpacatan, I assume."

            "Duly informed, but I'll see that won't be a problem," replied Richter. He stood at the front of the desk, hands behind his back, rocking a bit on his feet; even if he had been offered to sit, he would have refused. There was a quiet energy stirring inside of him that was just waiting to be unleashed on the day ahead.

            "Then you can still acquire the artifact?"

            "If they've got the Gatekeeper's tome like sounds like, stuff's about to get heavy. I don't think there's a check you can write that'll make Borden turn it loose. It's all about the race, and he wants to finish first just as much as anyone."

            Shere Khan leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. "Then use... persuasion. I'm sure you have that ability, in ample quantities."

            "Yeah, I'm a real charmer," said Richter. "You're saying you want me to steal it for you."

            "I expect you to secure it. As long as your old friends have its information, my control of the situation is substantially limited."

            "Just leave it to me," Richter smirked. “This is it, Mr. Khan, the homestretch. Shame on me for letting them take the lead, but if I were you, I'd start sending your fleet out now."

            "That will be for me to decide, after you've done your part," said Khan. "You'll depart from the airfield as soon as possible. I will be sending you aboard an armed transport with Colonels Jackson and Taylor. I've instructed them to assist you in any way necessary."

            "Like the rest of them, they'll be assisting me by keeping out of my way."

            "They'll deploy with you on the ground. Taking into consideration your injury, I feel it's better assurance that you not be alone this time."

            Richter paused, as if he was expecting much more of an explanation. "But... they're just pilots. You better understand, that jungle isn't a cockpit. And my leg ain't gonna fall off, I'm dealing with it fine. You stick those goons on the ground with me, and I'll be babysitting."

            "They have Air Force experience," Khan said. "I'm not yet inclined to send more vessels out, not until you've proven the location of the site."

            Richter's eyes glistened with frustration, like the annoyance of a master being being instructed on his craft by an apprentice. "You want assurance, but it's got nothing to do with any injury. You think I might pull out of our deal as soon as I hit paydirt. Well, rest assured, I'm going to get you your precious glowing rocks."

            "These are the terms, Mr. Richter. They are not negotiable. Once you've specified the location, I will have reinforcements sent immediately to excavate the site. Until then, I'm certain you can appreciate that I would rather keep this endeavor on the lowest possible profile."

            "Certainly," Richter replied, flatly. "Wouldn't want people to think Shere Khan went chasing after a fairy tale."

            A cold stare between the two was broken by the black telephone ringing on Khan's desk. Richter took the opportunity to make an unexcused departure, to Khan's irritation.

            Khan listened to the message and set the receiver down hard, to catch Richter's attention. "Before you leave, it seems we have information on Mr. Borden that might enhance your search."

            "Oh?"

            "Would it be of any convenience to you to know what plane he's contracted?"

            A few hours since the Sea Duck departed from Cape Suzette, its destination started to emerge from the edges of the ocean. Tyler had joined the pilot and navigator in the cockpit, standing between the seats.

            "Shere Khan offered both of us a fairly handsome sum for our expertise," Tyler explained, answering a question regarding his parting of ways from Richter. "He took a great interest in our work in the Atronador, and for a number of years he's auctioned for several artifacts we've found. I turned him down, for my own reasons. Jesse, I suppose, saw it as a golden ticket, so to speak. So, he works for Khan now, and I help curate of a few museums in Usland and abroad."

            "You mean Khan's into that old stuff you guys dig for?" asked Baloo.

            "I know, it doesn't sound like him," said Kit. "What is so hot about the stuff you guys get from this country, anyway? I mean, Karnage, Khan, you..."

            "Well, I haven't the first clue what Don Karnage thought he was going to do. Perhaps he was privy to the market for it, and going to cash in. In the right hands, the clues we find about the old civilization in Alpacatan are priceless."

            "Then what was that thing you took from the pirates?" asked Kit.

            "A clue," grinned Tyler. "Just a little glimpse into the past." As the land drew closer, Tyler pointed to a city on the coast, blanketed by smog. “Look! There it is, Alpacito City. Just land at one of the docks and I’ll take care of things from there.”

            “Huh, this place looks different over here,” remarked Kit, referring to the scenery of Alpacatan. Only a narrow strip of sand along the coast separated the clear, blue ocean from the deep green canopy of the Atranador Basin, contrasted further out in the distance by granite mountains, which filled out the horizon with grey, snowy peaks, some smoking with volcanic ash, the highest ones laden with silver clouds that snaked down between the slopes. From their bird's-eye view, they saw how the mountains formed a broad, horseshoe-shaped valley around the jungle; of all things to randomly be reminded of, Kit recalled making a similar shaped dent in the land once on Louie's beach when, during a little joyride not authorized by Baloo, he accidentally plowed the Sea Duck nose-first into the sand.

            “Yep, sure does Li’l Britches.”

            “You’ve been here before?” Tyler asked.

            “We were up just north’a here awhile back,” Baloo answered. “Had a few nasty run-ins with some cat and his buzzard.”

            “Not to mention your destiny, O Great Llama,” smirked Kit.

            “Now don't go startin' that again.”

            Tyler gave them a puzzled look. “Great Llama?”

            “Yeah, ol’ Papa Bear here got confused with some kind of destined hero.”

            “Oh, I’m familiar with the legend, Kit. Although, it escapes me how Baloo... of all people...”

            “Don’t ask,” Baloo muttered. Kit laughed.

            “I won’t then. But that means you've likely heard of the legendary idol! I've been meaning for a long time to try my hand at finding it."

            “We did find it,” said Baloo.

            “You did?" asked Tyler. "Well, where is it?”

            “Gone,” Kit answered.

            “Solid,” Baloo added with a snap of his fingers.

            "Gone? What do you mean...?" When he suddenly realized what they meant, his face fell. “Oh, you didn’t...”

            “We did," Baloo nodded. "Thing was more trouble than it was worth.”

            Tyler shook his head and smiled. “Amateurs”

            On the foreground of millions of acres of sheer, untamed jungle wilderness, the city of Alpacito stood out like a burning cigar hole on a white rug; in particular, it would have been a very large, sprawling cigar hole. Humid and dusty, it was a vast, overcrowded hub of smoke-churning factories and single-story buildings, streets filled with bicycles, llamas and horses, and flea markets as far as the eye could see. In the northern most section, where the land inclined uphill, there sat a tier of large, wealthy homes. The lowest part of the city was stretched along the coastline; slow moving trucks kicked up dust on pothole-riddled roads connected to neighboring towns afar. A few miles up the coast, a gated army base could be seen on a bluff overlooking the beach; it had the only nearby airfield, off-limits to civilian traffic.

            The city bay held a vast marina that was as overcrowded as the streets were, packed with ships of all kinds, from jumbo-sized oil tankers to small rowboats.

            “Watch it, Papa Bear,” warned Kit, as Baloo cut back the throttle and lowered the flaps. “Fishing boats dead ahead... and everywhere else.”

            “I see ‘em, kiddo.” Baloo spied a large enough gap between the many boats crowding the bay and gently touched the plane down. Smaller boats rocked in its wake as it glided across the water. “Hoo-hoo, baby... all these people and ain't another plane in sight. That's just wrong!”

            As the plane slowed, Kit helped him keep a lookout for any vessels they might collide with. “I don't think I've ever seen so many ships in one place before.”

            “Well, fishing is a large industry here,” Tyler explained. “You see, there must be hundreds of---”

            “Two o’clock!” Kit suddenly shouted. A speedboat darted around a large tanker and sped head-on towards the Sea Duck. “Look out!”

            Baloo and the speedboat driver seem to notice each other at the same time, and too late. “What’n the---! Hold tight!” Quickly, he punched the left engine’s throttle to full power, and threw the flight stick and rudder full tilt to the right. The Sea Duck swivelled to an abrupt stop.

            The speedboat evaded to the right, barely missing nicking the Sea Duck’s tail, and fled out of sight. “Lousy Sunday boater!” Baloo yelled out his window. “Man... everyone okay?”

            "Sure, I'm okay," Kit replied, re-adjusting his seatbelt.

            Baloo then turned around, seeing no one. “Tyler?”

            A low moan came from the floor. Woozy, Tyler picked himself off the floor. “Yes, I’m fine... I think.” He grabbed onto Kit’s chair for support and blinked. “Should we just look for a place to park now?”

            Baloo taxied further into the bay, and moored at the nearest empty dock they spotted. Tyler was the first to stumble out of the plane, apparently still a bit dizzy. Baloo and Kit stepped out just behind him, where they were approached by a short, frizzle-haired bobcat, who was yelling at them indignantly in Spanish.

            “What flew up this guy’s tailpipe?” asked Baloo. Kit and Tyler shrugged. “Uh, problem-o, mister?”

            Apparently, there was a problem indeed, and the bobcat, waving his arms excitedly, explained what it was. Unfortunately, his Spanish was not getting through.

            “You understand what this guy’s sayin’?” Baloo asked Tyler.

            "Well, hardly," he replied, scratching his cheek as he thought about it. "Something about this dock..."

            The bobcat stepped right in front of Tyler with his chest puffed out, then began weaving between him and Baloo, prattling on furiously, and seemed to not be able to help but to invading their personal space, because he was bumping into them as he did.

            "Good grief," moaned Tyler. "Is the hospital missing a patient?"

            Kit walked off the dock, watching the bobcat carefully, particularly his hands, while Baloo and Tyler became more and more frustrated at his crazy behavior.

            "Aw, let's just go," said Baloo. "What's he gonna do?"

            "I agree---oof!" yelped Tyler, as the bobcat nudged his shoulder into his hip. "What on earth is wrong with you? Go away!"

            To their relief, the bobcat began to walk away and finally shut his mouth, except to stick his tongue out at them. Baloo and Tyler regarded him with dumbfounded expressions. "Sorry, Baloo," muttered Tyler. "Welcome to Alpacito."

            "Huh, you don't say," chuckled Baloo half-heartedly.

            Before the bobcat left, Kit made it a point to get in his way and brush into him. The bobcat glared at him like he was the stupidest child he had ever seen, then he rushed away and disappeared into the outdoor markets.

            "What was that all about?" asked Baloo.

            Kit handed Tyler his wallet back. "Here, he lifted this off you."

            "Why... I never," blinked Tyler. "How did that happen?"

            "He just made a distraction by running into you," said Kit. "Oldest trick in the book."

            "Hey, good eye, kid," said Baloo.

            Tyler sighed and stuffed his wallet in his front pant pocket where he would be better apt to keep watch over it. "I don't want to ask how you know that well enough to have gotten it back for me, but just the same, thank you. Now..." Tyler adjusted his fedora and started off. “Just follow me, fellows, the office is a little ways from here. We’ll get ourselves situated there.”

            The street they were on was covered with vendor tents and booths selling everything from fish to to rugs to told fortunes. Here and there, musicians strummed local folk-music in hopes their offering buckets would be filled. Those who weren't buying and selling loitered around the trash cans and street light posts, eyeing the crowd for any interesting prospects. It was a perfect place for crafty swindlers and pickpockets alike, despite having armed military sentries that stood on the street corners and roamed through the marketplaces. A heavy and loud-chugging Thembrian tank was prominently seen above head and shoulders, slowly crawling across the edge of the marketplace.

            “Some place, huh Baloo?”

            “You said it,” he replied. “Just make sure ya stick close. If there ain't a lot of characters runnin' ‘round here...”

            "There are typically three types of people on these streets," Tyler said. "Those selling something, those stealing something, and those doing both. Which reminds me, if you can help it... don’t make eye contact with anyone.”

            Around the corner and a long walk further into the downtown district, where the streets were better paved and more prominent businesses like restaurants, banks, and hotels resided, they followed Tyler inside a large museum. “Here we are, guys.”

            “Finally,” complained Baloo, whose feet were about as happy as a paw in a beartrap.

            Inside, an attractive young lioness sat behind the front desk filing her nails. She smiled at Tyler as he walked in. “Buenos días, cutie.”

            “Hello, Maria. How's things?”

            “You no miss much.” She then spotted the two bears, most noticeably the husky gray one. “Hey, what’s your name, popí?” She winked, then clicked her tongue.

            “Who... me?”

            Kit put his hand up to his mouth, snickering at Baloo’s bewildered expression.

            Tyler introduced them: “This is Baloo, and this young man is Kit. They flew me over here. Gents, this is the receptionist, Maria.”

            “Oooh, a pilot! How verrry interesting.”

            Baloo’s face turned red. "Uh, well, uh... thanks."

            "Oh, cool off for a minute," Tyler told her. “Is there any more word from Bagheera? I thought he'd be here by now.”

            “Ah, sí! Señor Bagheera radio-ed in just half hour ago. He say he no come here, and that you should meet him at Leoki.”

            “Le-whaty?” Baloo asked.

            “Leoki,” said Tyler . “It’s a tribal village a bit farther into the jungle. The villagers know us and let us camp there when we have need.”

            “You mean ya have what ya wanted ta get right here?”

            “Well...” Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, uneasily. “I thought we would... I don’t suppose you boys would like to join me on um... a little stroll?”

            Baloo crossed his arms. “How ‘little’ are we talkin’ here?”

            “Oh, not far... a few miles, give or take... a dozen more.”

            “In that jungle?” Baloo’s feet hurt just thinking about it. “I don't think so!”

            "You look tired, popí," said Marie. "Who need jungle? You have siesta at my hacienda! There plenty room!"

            "Down, Maria," chided Tyler. “Come now, Baloo, it’s not that bad. We’ll take llamas to ride... they’re very comfortable.”

            "Why can't yer pal meet ya here?" asked Baloo.

            "Apparently he can't make it into the city," Tyler explained. "I can't offer details, but Leoki is a contingency plan."

            "An' I can't fly there ya there?"

            "Not unless you can land on top of a tree, which I highly doubt is---" Tyler paused, taken aback, as Baloo suddenly beamed with an audacious grin. "Llamas, Baloo. Very nice, safe llamas."

            "Maybe we better," Kit said, aside to Baloo. "Miz Cunningham said whatever he needed."

            "What, and miss out on all the beautiful local color out there?" Baloo gestured to the window, where to his chagrin, a small herd of noisy gorilla birds ran wildly across the sidewalk, with a frantic shepherd chasing and calling after them. "Or maybe we could stay inside."

            "Oh, popí, you come sit next to me!" Maria offered. "Tell me all about how pilot is."

            "Uh, I uh," stammered Baloo, grinning a nervous but awkwardly polite no-thanks. "I think the kid's right. We're here to help!"

            "You do that to everyone," said Tyler, aside to the receptionist. "You could lose visitors!"

            "A contrario!" Maria pointed to, with no small boast in her countenance, the guest book on the corner of her desk, open and filled to the brim with names. Perhaps a coincidence, they were all men's names. "They keep coming back."

            Tyler waved her off, and brought Kit and Baloo to a closet near a staircase, where he was soon rummaging waist-deep through the clutter inside. "Now, let me see... canteens... ah! Here's an umbrella!"

            He handed the umbrella to Baloo, who could hardly help but notice through the windows that the sunshine was in ample quantity. "What's this for?" Tyler didn't hear him, as he searched around the closet. Baloo tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed out the window when he got his attention. "How do ya think this'll come handy?"

            "By golly, it might not, at that," Tyler replied. He put back away the umbrella, and instead shoved a wadded-up ball of raincoats into Baloo's arms. "You never know around here, one minute all's well, the next it's raining cats and dogs. Kit, right up these stairs, first door on your left. There should be some knapsacks on a table. Be a sport and bring us down one, will you?"

            "Sure!" Kit ran up the stairs, while Baloo plopped down on the second step, muttering about the sudden luggage he was handed, and wondering what cold, soaked, rainy misery he was getting roped into.

            “That kid’s more hyper than a jackrabbit that just sat in a puddle’a turpentine,” he remarked.

            "I was like that when I was his age," said Tyler. "Weren't you?"

            Baloo looked at the ceiling thoughtfully for a few seconds. “Nope.”

            “How old is he, anyway?”

            “Twelve.” With a grin, he added, “Too young to fly and too old to like hearin' about it.”

            Tyler nodded. "My oldest nephew's twelve, and he's starting to realize that somehow he has control of the entire universe, much to his mum and dad's chargin. Well, chap, I’d invite you to look around, but I doubt you'd have time too see much before we're off.”

            "Yeah, ain't that a shame," Baloo drawled, scanning the place. He was probably the last person on earth to have much of an appreciation for such exhibits: paintings, statues great and small, vases, rows of glass cases holding everything from carved jewelry to ancient parchments... and a receptionist who winked at him every time they made eye contact. "So, you a regular 'round here?"

            “You could say that,” replied Tyler. “I keep on the good side of the local officials here, with the understanding I turn over anything I find in the country over to them, and at times this museum has been a home away from home. If I may boast, nearly half of everything here was recovered with my hand involved.”

            Tyler leaned his elbow on the banister, glancing at the various artifacts. “It’s a pity, though. With a wealth of history in its backyard, this city could house one of the most prestigious museums in the world.”

            "'Prestigious' ain't 'xactly what I'd call this place."

            "I know, I know. All those sentries with rifles in thier hands aren't for decoration. They're not what you'd call lenient, either, almost anything can earn you a good flogging at the least. They've tried to fancy things up here and there, resorts by the beaches and such, but the city's gone to the dogs, crime is everywhere, no tourism..."

            Maria cleared her throat loudly, pointing again to her guest book.

            "I stand corrected," said Tyler. "We still have one popular attraction."

            Kit came back to the head of the stairs, knapsack in hand. "This what you want?"

            "That's it," said Tyler, and he checked his watch. "It's going to be an hour's ride. Let's hit the road!"

            "Oh meester Ty-ler," sang Maria. "I have something else for you! Señor Bagheera says he has a friend."

            "Who?"

            Maria answered with her signature wink and tongue-click.

            Kit and Baloo shrugged at each other as Tyler's jaw seemingly became unhinged. "My-Myra? Myra is here?"

            "I thought you maybe should know."

            Tyler suddenly began to look himself over, from shoulders to toe. "Oh dear, oh dear. Scruffy shoes, dusty pant legs, I look awful!"

            The name sounded familiar to Baloo. As he looked around the room and everything archeological within it, a recent adventure with Wildcat in an upside-down pyramid sprang to mind. "The gal from Aridia?"

            "You know her? How?"

            "Long story," Baloo said. "Delivered a stone tablet to 'er once, ended up gettin' chased by pirates and a crazy mummy!"

            "Mummies and pyramids," nodded Tyler. "That's her, all right."

            "Yep, she's a handful."

            "Handful? What is that supposed to mean?" In a beat, Tyler had his finger against Baloo's chest. "Exactly how well did you get to know her?"

            "Hey, easy! Wasn't nothin' like that."

            Maria watched on, chin cupped in her hands. "Ooh, the jealous type. Rrromantic!"

            "Jeal---absurd," Tyler protested. "I'll have you know my relationship with Myra is strictly professional!"

            "I know what I seen before," she replied. "You got for her---how you say---the hots."

            "Not in front of the lad," hissed Tyler. Kit turned away, rolling his eyes. He spied an exhibit of swords and went to go check that out. "I've had a mild infatuation with her before, but I'm adult enough to handle it." Feeling all eyes on him, Tyler Tylers voice cracked and faltered. He grabbed Baloo by the shirt and pleaded with him. "No, I can't. Will you help me?"

            "Help? How?"

            "Well, mummy and all, you must be familiar enough to talk to her. Keep a conversation going! I stutter like a blithering idiot when I talk to her!"

            Baloo elbowed him away, a knowing eyebrow raised. "Twitterpated."

            "A little," said Tyler, hanging his head. "The last time I saw her, I took her to dinner in Pango-Pango. I don't know what I ate, but it didn't stay down before we had left the table." He cringed, wringing his fingers together. "I haven't had the courage to say two words to her since."

            "I know all about twitterpate, popi," Maria said to Baloo. "But you could show me what you know, sí?"

            With a gulp, Baloo fidgeted with his cap, pretending not to have heard that. "G-good ol' Myra, huh? I'll be right behind ya, Tyler."

            On the outskirts of town, Tyler rented three llamas. Baloo required the biggest and strongest steed available for his bulk, which unfortunately for him, also happened to be the most stubborn. The three were not quite into the jungle before it was evident that the ride would not go smoothly for the big guy.

            “Hey! Cut it out!” Baloo yelled. Every other step his llama took, it would sway as if to knock him off its back.

            Kit and Tyler rode ahead of him, side by side, shaking their heads at the scene behind them. “Show the llama kindness, Baloo,” said Tyler. “It’s the only way you’re going to get along with it.”

            “Kindness? I’d like to show this long-haired packin’ mule a taxidermist!”

            “He never was any good with animals,” Kit said to Tyler.

            “So I see.”

            Thunder clashed in the distance, capturing Kit’s attention. The once silver clouds on the peaks of the mountain were now dark gray, thick and angry with rain and wind. Sharing the same namesake as the jungle, the vast, towering ranges were known as the Atronador Heights, an informal mix of their Spanish and English names, respectively: Las Alturas Atronadoras, or, the Thundering Heights. Regardless of the translation, it was roughly the same given by the ancient Felocians thousands of years prior, and for exactly the same reason.

            “You were right about taking those raincoats," Kit said. "I sure hope we don't need 'em.”

            “That's the Atronador for you,” said Tyler. “The land has a temperament all its own. We won't have much to worry about, I don't think. We're not going that far, anyway. It's when we do have need to explore further inside that it becomes a hexing task. Down here in the basin you have thunder, lightning, hailstorms, dangerous animals, the works. Then up in the mountains it gets even better. Blizzards, avalanches, and temperatures that could make Thembria look like a day at the beach.”

            “If people are still living in villages out there, it can't all be that bad, right?”

            "Well, I imagine if you've lived here your entire life, you could gain a resilience that a tenderfoot like me lacks," said Tyler. "The city and towns usually fair well, though; its the deep jungle where things get truly bitter, and not many live far from the coast anymore. The village we're heading to is one of only a remaining few."

            They kept on a narrow trail that was soon overwhelmed by trees and ferns on either side. White and orange butterflies fluttered about the leaves, splashing the monotonous green surroundings with bits of vibrant color. Loquacious birds chirped in the branches, jubilantly, as if cheering the three strangers riding into their territory like a street parade.

            "Take a look over there, chaps." Tyler pointed to their left, where through the trees they could see the ruins of a tower, rising over the tall foliage. "That used to be one of several watchtowers that overlooked the ocean. It's only a stump compared to how high it originally was. The Felocians did, that one about five thousand years ago. This jungle holds some of the oldest structures in the world, which is quite remarkable if you consider the history of earthquakes in the area."

            Behind them, Baloo continued to yell at and insult at his llama, never taking notice to what Tyler said.

            “Kindness, Baloo,” Tyler chided him. “Be nice to it.”

            “I got yer ‘nice’ right here, pal,” Baloo grumbled, holding onto the llama’s wool to keep from falling off.

            “He’ll never learn,” sighed Kit. "Then this is what you guys do, come out here and look at old buildings?"

            Tyler laughed. "You make it sound so complicated! But actually, yes, we do. Mostly, though, we take what artifacts we can out of the jungle for the world to see."

            Up ahead, the path curved around a raised stone platform with a blackened iron sculpture; while heavily weathered it resembled a four-clawed talon, broken at the wrist from what would have been the rest of the statue. There were three more platforms set around the path, positioned as pedestals for a giant four-legged creature. "That foot over there would be a piece of Felocian god, Sargon," said Tyler. "A very unpleasant bloke. He was the manifestation of the jungle's ferocity, no doubt brought about by the many lovely creatures who make their home here. If you've ever seen an Atronador varan, for instance, you'd have some idea. Big, poisonous lizards that feed like great white sharks.

            "Sargon's likeness is all over Felocian art, a fantastically gruesome-looking demon. In their mythology, he was a spirit of chaos, who was said to be jealous of the beauty and harmony of life, and introduced death, chaos, and destruction into the world. He was the archenemy of Seren, the benevolent goddess of the earth and all things living on it, and at the end they fought a terrible on this very land, where Seren ultimately banished Sargon to an eternal abyss, though Sargon left a permanent scar on the world, everything from thunderstorms to snake venom.

            "I'm not sure what Seren would have looked like... never found an image of her. References to her were nearly obliterated by the last Felocian king... that chap had a dark obsession with ruthlessness, and took quite a liking to Sargon's style, and built plenty of monumental shrines in his honor. That sculpture would have been one; I wish that it were still intact, what a sight it must have been back in the day to travelers, the dark god's outstretched wings flared and shading this old path!"

            Baloo, fussing with his llama, was fast in his own miserable world, while the gray fox absently prattled on about how the jungle once looked in the development of the ancient empire. For Kit, as perhaps typical of a twelve-year-old boy's mind, he only retained a few certain words: "What about poisonous lizard sharks?" he asked. Come to think of it, there might have been a comic book about those.

            "Varans, yes," said Tyler. "Nasty business, those lizards, but fortunately they keep much further inland. Now, where was I...?"

            Apparent by now to Kit, Tyler Borden loved to talk. Perhaps not so much on the social scales, but as a natural born lecturer, and at the moment he had a fresh, young set of ears of with to share his wealth of historical knowledge. And he did, more and more as their three-man caravan passed near old ruins, taking no heed to the difference between a listening audience and polite silence, where the impolite and more desirable alternative would have told the fox to, in no uncertain terms, shut his big yap already.

            As they rode on a little further, Kit began to think of the strange stone case that Don Karange had stolen a time before, and asked about it once he got a word in edgewise. "Say, what did you guys take from the pirates that night? I remember Karnage calling it a map, but for what?"

            "Well, we call them tomes, bound parchments buried with the high-ranking and royal ancients that accounted for their life's deeds accomplishments, to have available in the afterlife. We've only found six, most not in very good condition, but they've been remarkable tools in piecing infomation together about the world in that day. Particularly, we hoped that what we took from the Iron Vulture would give us enough information to reveal the whereabouts of a very special place. Have you ever heard or read of the name Rhamastan?"

            Kit shook his head. "Nuh-uh."

            "Allow me to elaborate, then. You see, ages ago, this land was known as Felocia, and its people built an absolutely remarkable civilization, a kingdom spread throughout the greater part of the basin." Tyler pointed back at the watchtower ruins. "What you saw over there is just a smidgen of what was once here."

            "Okay, big cities. Gotcha."

            Tyler went on, this time gesturing to their entire surroundings, “Citadels, ziggurats, forums, and aqueducts, if you dig deep enough anywhere you'll likely find something. But the one thing we haven't found is the citadel that housed the tombs of the kings and all their wealth. That would be Rhamastan, an underground stronghold hidden from the face of the earth. What mention of it that has survived has been brushed off my most scholars as a fairy tale. I can't wait to see the look on their frowning faces when we finally bring the bugger to light."

            "There'd be lots of treasure in there?"

            "If by lots, you mean an entire nation's worth," Tyler replied.

            “Trea-sure?” Baloo took a brief pause in arguing with his llama and finally paid Tyler a two seconds worth of interest. “You guy's 're talkin' about my two favorite things!”

            “A nation's worth, huh?” A thoughtful look crossed Kit’s face as he contemplated an idea or two. "Why do they say it's a fairy tale?"

            "It's all what you pick out as myth or reality," said Tyler. "Rhamastan is said to have fallen from the heavens at the beginning of history. It had thriving gardens that could sustain the entire kingdom, it boasted of shimmering, bejewelled halls as far as the eye could see, and everywhere, an everlasting light, while never touched by the sun or moon. As the royal cemetery, it was a vision of a paradise, heaven on earth if you will."

            "What's the real part?"

            Tyler glanced at him from the corner of his eye, smirking. "Why, I just told you."

            Kit started at him blankly, expecting more of an explanation, and to Tyler, ready to, if not eager to, proudly tell the tale of his life's work and knowledge, the boy was a fish who just bit the lure.

            "A years ago, back when I had just begun my interest in the matter, hikers stumbled upon a crystal the size of a golf ball on the slopes of the mountains, and it shined light, quite bright. I saw it myself, but I couldn't convince the finders to sell it to me. But that was it, at that moment, we knew what was thought of as impossible was not. Felocian legend told of a mineral called firestone, and that was it, the type of crystal that gave Rhamastan an everlasting light!"

            Kit took a quick look behind him to check on Baloo, seeing the big gray bear now had his arms around the llama’s neck to keep from falling off. “Now listen,” Baloo was saying to his steed. “Let’s be rational, ‘kay? You don’t like me, and I don’t like you... but let’s try ta get through this trip, huh?” The llama only snorted in reply.

            "Where's this crystal now?"

             "Unfortunately, like so many other things in the city, it was stolen. The next thing to come around was that Shere Khan somehow acquired it up---and by that I mean I'm certain he was the one who financed its theft---but that rumor was quickly denied and off-limits for anyone in his company to talk about, and before I knew it, no one ever spoke of it again. No one claimed it was ever found. Khan locked it away and shut everyone up about it."

            "Why would someone just want to hide it? Seems if anyone's interested, that'd be a neat collector's item to show off."

            "Bright lad, my thoughts exactly. That crystal was proof, and everything we ever needed to launch a well-funded expedition for Rhamastan. Trust me, I tried following up on what Khan did with it, but I only heard the sketchiest of details. It seems he was trying to research the stone to find what made it luminous. I'm no scientist, though. My point is, crystals like that, on the scale of hundreds and thousands, embedded in caverns, the legend becomes quite real. And, firestone's not the only special substance associated with Rhamastan."

            From underneath his open-collared shirt, Tyler pulled out a necklace that hung a flat, weathered golden ornament with the engraved facial image of a reptilian beast with four horns jutting from his crown. "They found gold."

            Kit’s ears perked up in piqued interest. “Gold?”

            "They've been mining the mountains around here for a century, not a lick of it to be found. But many of the Felocian relics are pure gold. It was a sacred metal to them, and, they had such an abundance of it, we have hints of them using it in construction in Rhamastan. And I emphasize when I use the word 'abundance', if you take my meaning.” 

            “Wait, you’re saying...?”

            “A city made of gold,” Tyler said, smiling, as he tucked his necklace back under his shirt. “I’m not sure we could fathom how magnificent it must look without seeing it in person. And goodness knows what else they might have made out of gold... anything’s possible. Really, it’d be a treasure hunter’s dream come true.”

            "Wow. Baloo, are you listening to any of this?" Kit asked.

            “Huh? Yeah, sure Kit,” Baloo lied. Somehow he had ended up riding sidesaddle by now.

            Distant thunder beckoned from the mountains again. Through the trees, Kit watched the gray, dreary clouds spread surprisingly fast over the snow-covered mountains, where looming shadows flooding the still, rocky slopes silently spoke of the daunting task that awaited those who came too close, and imagining of what awaited gave him goose bumps.

            "So, just out of curiosity," Kit said, "how long do you think it'd take you to actually go looking for this place?"

            "Oh, perhaps a week," replied Tyler. "I'd like to properly prepare."

            "A week, huh?" Kit quietly repeated to himself. He was quite pleased with that answer.

            "I'd love to start today, but caution takes precidence. The gates of Rhamastan could be buried under fifty feet of ice up in the mountains, for all we know. And it’s not the type of place you’d want to search around for very long. In any event, I'll know soon enough.”

            Kit would have rubbed his hands together if it wouldn't have been so conspicuous. 'That makes two of us,' he thought.

            The three were following their trail onward through the jungle when Tyler spotted chimney smoke rising above the treetops ahead. “Leoki should be coming about any minute now.”

            Kit nodded. “Good. I hate to tell ya, but these llamas aren’t exactly as comfortable as you said.”

            “I suppose they do take some getting used to, don't they.”

            “A few pillows wouldn’t hurt, either. Wait a minute...” Kit suddenly realized he hadn’t heard any grumbling from behind them for several minutes. When he looked back, he saw no one. “Where’d Baloo go?” 

            “Baloo?” Tyler turned his head. “Why, I don’t know.”

            “Baloo!” Kit called out. “Where are you?”

            Just then, a small boy, a lion cub, pounced from a bush in front of their path, startling the llamas. He snarled at Kit and Tyler, holding up a spear to them, which was twice his own length and too heavy for him to handle without strain.

            “Whoa-ho there, little one,” Tyler said, half chuckling, but also cautious of the sharp, jagged stone being pointed at him. “Easy now. We’re friends.”

            “Yeah, take it easy,” said Kit. If there was one thing more surprising than seeing someone younger than himself in the middle of the jungle, it was being attacked by him.

            The lion cub, however, only growled and jabbed his spear in their direction. Apparently he was not much for diplomacy.

            “Don’t think he understands us,” said Kit.

            “Let’s see if I can remember this,” Tyler mumbled. He put his left fist against his right palm and bowed his head slightly at the boy, but then hesitated as he was about to say something. "I always get the proper greeting confused with a similar sounding phrase that means 'vile pig.'"

            An older lion, likely the young cub’s father, came through the trees, and recognized the gray fox. “Ah, Ty-lar!”

            The cub stared suspiciously at Tyler for a moment, then at Kit... then lowered his spear, pouting. So much for fending off intruders.

            Tyler gestured the same greeting again. “Hello there!”

            After returning the greeting, the man snatched the spear out of his boy’s hands, gave him a brief scolding in his own language, and sent him scampering back to the village. Then he motioned for them to follow him, speaking kindly in an indistinct mixture of broken English and Felocian dialect.

            Kit ignored him and scanned the jungle, sighing apprehensively. “Look, I’m getting worried. I gotta go back and find Baloo.” But to his relief, he heard a familiar griping approach from behind. “Baloo? Is that you?”

            “I’m comin’!” Soon they watched as his llama strolled out of the foliage, its passenger riding backwards on his saddle.

            “Baloo, how on earth...” said Tyler.

            Baloo didn’t answer. He just rolled off his llama, falling belly-first on the ground. The llama snorted with much relief. “All I’m gonna say is that thing is evil.” He slowly rose to his feet, rubbing his backside. “We’ll take llamas to ride,” he mimicked. “They’re very comfortable.”

            “Well, Kit and I are fine.”

            “Oh, I’m real happy for ya. I’ll walk from here, thanks.” He started off, holding his steed by the reins, but it stubbornly planted its feet into the ground and refused to follow him. “And it can stay here for all I care!”

            The native lion shook his head at him and approached his llama. “Teska te riest,” he told Baloo, which translated, meant 'show the llama kindness. He placed his hand on the llama’s neck and led it off towards the village. Kit and Tyler' followed.

            Baloo brought up the rear, scratching the back of his head. “Now how’d he do that?”

            Bagheera greeted them as they arrived at the edge of the village. “Tyler! There you are.”

            “Good to see you, Bagheera.” Tyler dismounted his llama and shook the panther’s hand. “Especially today.”

            Suddenly, several rounds of gun fire blasted through the trees. Startled, Kit and Baloo jumped and the llamas fussed.

            Tyler shut his eyes and let out a long sigh. "That's them, I take it."

            "The chief says they've been at it all bloody day," replied Bagheera. "They nearly caught me off guard."

            "You mind tellin' us what's goin' on?" asked Baloo.

            “Are these companions of yours?” Bagheera asked Tyler.

            “This is Kit, and that fellow is Baloo," he said. "They’re my round-trip ticket.”

            Bagheera nodded to both bears. “Ah. Well, hello, fellows.”

            "Yeah yeah, hello," said Baloo. "Now who's shootin'? An' at what?"

            "Alpacatan patrols," Tyler began to explain. "They want to inspect artifacts we find in the jungle..." But just then, two soldiers stepped out from the trees, each with a rifle slung around their shoulders and an unmistakable scent of alcohol about them. They were laughing and heartily greeted Tyler by name when they saw him. From there, Tyler and Bagheera forced themselves to smile and made broken small-talk through a language barrier. The soldiers then sauntered away toward the village, pleased, sleepy, and drunk.

            "Fortunately, I brought enough things from the excavation to satiate their curiousity," Bagheera said aside to Tyler, once the soliders were out of earshot. "They have no idea about the tome." Baloo and Kit followed them into the village, shrugging 'who knows?' at each other.

            The village of Leoki sat on a firm, rocky clearing near one of the jungle's lesser lakes. It mostly consisted of a large cluster of huts made of mortar, stone, and lumber, and pens where chickens and pigs were fenced. Children ran and played about in the open, while the rest were engaged in everyday tasks, from cooking, roof repair, to spear sharpening. Several villagers with llamas were loading their steeds with sacks full of crafts, preparing a caravan of trading goods destined for the city. From time to time, Bagheera and Tyler made arrangements with the village chieftain to smuggle certain finds with the caravan, for prying eyes guarding the city were rarely interested in aboriginal crafts.

            Everyone in the village seemed to have a job to do, and no one seemed interested in the visiting soldiers, who had gone to nap behind the shade of a hut. Nor did they pay much attention, at first glance, to their foreign guests, with exception of the curious children. They seemed particularly fascinated with Baloo, talking amongst themselves and making rotund gestures around their bellies.

            Baloo groaned. “Somethin’ tells me I shoulda took my chances with that Maria gal.”

            At that, Tyler perked up and began to scan the many faces of the village folk. "I nearly forgot. Bagheera, where is she?"

            "Myra and the team are back at Amakhan," Bagheera replied, and with some relief and disappointment, Tyler sighed like he was holding his breath for hours. "Sorry, I take it that much didn't get through to Maria," said Bagheera.

            "No, no, but that's okay, I'm in no hurry to say hello," said Tyler. "But where's that little prize at, eh?"

            "Yes, we need to speak about that. But alone, if you don't mind." Then Bagheera said to the other two, "Uh, Baloo? Kit? I'm sure you two are a trifle tired after your trip, and it's about lunch time here. The villagers are very hospitable, I know they'll love it if you sat down and joined them for a bit."

            “Lunch, huh?” Baloo brightened and helped Kit down off his llama. “C’mon, Li’l Britches, lets see what kinda ‘gourmet’ they serve out here.”

            Bagheera eagerly motioned for Tyler to follow him. “Right, just make yourselves at home.”

            Curiousity was nagging at Kit's thoughts as he watched the two walked away, whispering. “Naw, I'll pass, Baloo... I'm gonna take a look around.”

            "Well, suit yerself," said Baloo. "Just don’t go wanderin’ too far alone, ya hear?”

            “Right. I’ll check back with you in a few minutes," said Kit. He headed towards the hut Tyler and Bagheera stole into. Cautiously poking his head in an open window, he saw Bagheera pry the top off of a wooden crate. From it, he took out a square-shaped object wrapped in a white cloth. Kit ducked his head down when he saw his shadow cast on the far wall, but kept his ear close.

            "I'm glad you arrived," said Bagheera. "Those guards are more familiar with you than me, you and your beaming reputation with everyone. There were more of them earlier, looking into everything. I handed over several boxes of trinkets we found, they seemed content with it and haven't asked any more questions. Thus far I've managed to keep this a secret."

            "I saw our friends packing up their llamas," said Tyler. "I take that means our plan is working?"

            "Yes, as far as the soldiers know, they've seen everything we have, and we're going to stroll right into the city with this little beauty as part of the caravan."

            “Where exactly did you find it?” Tyler asked.

            "The temple of Sin Rha’Amakhan, the tomb good Gatekeeper himself. It was a chamber I followed under the ziggurat... wait until I tell you how they had it rigged! And the corpses, hundreds of them, weapons and armor, all as they died after the citadel imploded! There's so much, I couldn't tear Myra away from it."

            "Fantastic! I wish I could have... uh..." There was a short pause, Tyler hesitated. "If she chose to stay, didn't she know what I was coming?" Before Bagheera could answer, Tyler quickly added, "Wait, never mind. I don't want to know."

            "She's business first, you know that," said Bagheera.

            "And still oblivious as ever, no doubt."

            "Well if you know that why don't you just tell her for once how---oh, hang it all. I'm not beating that dead horse with you again. May I show you this now?"

            "Please!"

            Bagheera removed the cloth, revealing the golden casing of the tome. Further, he opened the case and showed the leathery pages inside.

            Tyler’s jaw fell limp. “That looks... special.”

            Kit silently tiptoed next to the hut's door, trying to catch a glimpse of the artifact from behind their backs. But Bagheera wrapped it up and placed it inside the crate before he could get a chance.

            Bagheera cleared this throat, and in a thespian manner, spoke, "As penned by General Zul Rhakeith himself, for which he may present to his fathers upon ascending to paradise, the account of his service to the throne, the Aridian war, and the studies of his charge, including, but not limited to, the legacy of Sargon and the history of the 'Ancient Cave', crafted into a fortress and renamed by the sitting king after himself: Rhamastan!”

            "Bloody fantastic!" squeeled Tyler. "How far have you gotten into it?"

            “I've been devouring it like mad, it's much different from the others. It reads like a manifesto for militant power, with long-winded reverence for emulating the chaos lord Sargon, and justified the invasion into Aridia and the genocide of his own people. He and the king were not merely obsessed with Sargon, they were absolutely bonkers. And we were correct that Rhakeith was a chief technical architect, but in all he was the forth second-banana in Rhama's reign. The other three were retired, if you can imagine what I mean."

            "They were executed?"

            "Ha, no! They literally retired, from old age. Rhama lived over two hundred years! Just like the stories the villagers tell! His closest servants also had long lives. Rhakeith wrote that Rhama lived almost exclusively in the Cave... apparently that stank underground air does wonders for vitality."

            “Wow,” Tyler breathed. "But what of Rhamastan? Do we have it?"

            Bagheera's toothy grin, which replied a big affirmative to Tyler's question, glistened in sharp contrast to his black fur. From the same crate, he took out a map and unfolded it. “I’ve worked on it privately every second I could spare... I have our route all charted out.”

            As Bagheera explained the course to Tyler, Kit inched his way closer, stretching his neck as far as it could go. Bagheera held the map out between them, which was cluttered with penned-in notes, lines tracing paths, and X’s. Once hit had a good enough view, he scrambled to memorize the marks on it, especially where a large, red 'X' was marked.

            Tyler ogled over the same ‘X’, giddly laughter coming in small fits. “Excellent work, dear boy. After all these years...”

            “And I remind you, we’re the only ones. You know Shere Khan is going to do everything he can to---” Bagheera suddenly spotted Kit out of the corner of his eye, and quickly folded the map.. “Uh, can we help you, lad?”

            Kit jumped, startled. “Huh? Oh! Um... I...”

            “What’s up, Kit?” asked Tyler. “Something wrong?”

            “N-no, I was just, um, that is I... I could’ve sworn I saw a chicken come in here that uh... that ran off with my hat.”

            “But you’re wearing your hat,” said Tyler.

            “Oh... right. Heh, my mistake. It sure looked like my hat, though.”

            Bagheera looked at Tyler, who shrugged. “Well, we’ll certainly keep an eye out for a chicken with something strange in its beak.”

            “Yeah, well, sorry to bother you guys, I’ll be, um... see ya!” Kit spun around and darted out of the hut, but only to go around to the side, where he ducked under the open window again to listen.

            “Strange boy,” Bagheera remarked.

            Tyler nodded. “First time in the jungle, I think. I hope he hasn't caught anything unhealthy... but anyway, you’re right about Shere. Who knows what he’ll pull to get this information.”

            “Exactly. Now, I love my team, they're just a bunch of lads working hard to put themselves through school, but I’m not fool enough to think they’d keep it a secret if Khan starts flashing enough money around, and I've no doubt that's certain.”

            “So what did you tell them? They had to be anxious to find out about it.”

            “Oh, I handed them some rubbish about not wanting to expose the it to the climate... and when they got too curious, well, I lied. I told them the tome spoke of Rhamastan to be at Lake Titicoocoo.”

            “Brilliant,” Tyler smiled. “So even if Shere tried to bribe them, they’d have his people searching completely in the wrong area!”

            “Now you’ve got the picture. And while they’re busy digging up dirt who-knows-where, we’ll be putting ourselves in history books!” Bagheera opened the map back up, and the two began studying their course again. "Now, we've much to plan. Our destination lies here, inside the Rainbow Canyon, about forty miles, eighty-five degrees due east of Alpacito."

            Then, Bagheera began describing all he had done and seen while exploring the ziggurat, and after Kit decided he had heard all he needed, he ran off to find Baloo.

            The gray bear, meanwhile, being recognized as one of Bagheera and Tyler's friends, had been offered an ample bowl of fruit to eat by the locals and a blanket to rest on under a shady tree, both which he gratefully accepted. He was still sore from his bout with the llama, but the comfortable warm air and amiable atmosphere helped him forget about it. He sprawled out on the blanket and gingerly snacked on the fruit, tapping his foot to a merry recital of the ‘Banana Boogie Woogie Blues’ playing in his head.

            Kit dashed up from behind him, looking as excited as a hungry cub in a candy shop. “Papa Bear?”

            “Hey there, Li’l Britches. Man, do these guys know how to treat a guest or what?”

            “Yeah, they’re nice... can we talk for a sec?”

            “Sure, kiddo.” Baloo patted a spot on the blanket, gesturing for Kit to sit down. “What’s on yer mind?”

            Kit sat cross-legged next to him. “Did you happen to hear what Tyler was talking about on the way over here?”

            “I think heard somethin’ ‘bout treasure. Want some of my mango?”

            “No thanks. But yeah, that what I meant, treasure.”

            “Yeah? What about it?”

            “Well, we have a lot of fun when we go on treasure hunts, right?”

            “We sure do.” Baloo started to laugh. “Remember that time we drove ol’ Spiggy up the wall with that idol?”

            “Yeah... but we found that idol, right?”

            “Yep. Too bad it wasn’t worth that much.”

            “And we’ve found others, too. Like the Idol of Doom, or Captain Juan Toomany’s treasure.”

            “Yeah, we do pretty good sometimes. It’s a wonder we ain’t livin’ the easy life by now instead of...”

            Both fell silent for a moment. There was no need for him to finish that sentence. Kit spoke again, “Listen, Tyler really thinks there’s a huge treasure in some caverns around here, and I'm staring to think he's right. Something like a big underground city, with lots of gold... we’re talking big bucks here!”

            “Now hold on a minute. You ain’t suggestin’ we go up there, are ya?” Baloo asked, jerking his thumb at the ominous Atronador Heights.

            “Well... yeah.”

            “Aw, kid, don’t believe everything ya hear. I was listenin' to some of what Tyler was sayin’, and I'll tell ya... I've been on lot of treasure hunts in my life, and somethin' tells me there ain't nothing but chapped hide and bug bites 'round here."

            “But you know these things are never a sure thing anyway. That’s never stopped us before.” 

            “Kit...”

            “Just listen. Tyler said himself that he might not even start looking for it for a whole week. We can beat him to the punch!”

            “Kit...”

            “We take Tyler and his cargo back to Cape Suzette, come back here, and find it for ourselves, Baloo. We’ll be rich!”

            “Whoa, now calm down a minute! Yer soundin’ more like one of Becky’s screwball get-rich-quick schemes.”

            “Screwball? Compared to some of the things you’ve come up with?”

            “Hey, those were... different,” Baloo said. “At least then, there was really a treasure there to look for."

            “And who says we wouldn’t this time?”

            “All right then, tell me. What exactly is it we'd be tryin' to find?"

            “Well, I don’t know exactly...”

            “Uh-huh.”

            “But I know where it’s at!”

            “Where what’s at?”

            “This place they called Rhamastan, Baloo. It’s probably a cave or a tunnel that goes inside the mountains, just like in the Carlsbear Caverns! I saw it marked on their map... I even heard them say directions out loud! I could find it on any map, I know it!”

            “Aw, those mountain’s ain’t made for people to stand around an’ look for a hole in the ground. You realize we’d freeze our fur off before anything else?”

            “We’ll take really warm clothes, then,” said Kit though clenched teeth.

            “An’ even if there was a big treasure, how do ya know it ain't under a mile of snow?"

            “Snow? Well...” Kit hesitated, surprised and frustrated that Baloo should pick now, of all times, to be sensible.

            “Sorry, I don’t think so.”

            “We can at least try, Baloo.”

            “Kit, no, okay?”

            Kit sighed, disappointed.

            Baloo patted him on the shoulder, to offer a little consolation. “Say, partner, we got plenty of adventures left. Why you so itchin’ all the sudden for this one?”

            “I dunno... hearing those guys talk about it, and being so close to it... I started to get some ideas. I just thought it was something that could really help us out... you know, maybe pay off some bills. Maybe even for good.”

            “Yer heart’s in the right place, Kit... but this ‘Ramma-ham’ just ain’t what we need right now. Maybe when the next treasure hunt comes our way.”

            “Maybe.” Kit stood up and brushed off some small leaves from his thigh. “Here comes Tyler, all smiles.”

            Tyler loaded the wooden crate on a llama-pulled wagon that was already full with other goods. "Gents," he called out, "We'll be riding back with our Felocian friends back to the city!" The Alpacatan soldiers, in half-stupor, had their groggy eyes on Tyler and the caravan; Tyler was speaking very projected and making exaggerated hand gestures to express his intentions. "Just helping them move some merchandise, and taking a few small things Bagheera found back to the museum!" 

            "Oh, goody," muttered Baloo. "More ridin'."

            Several children suddenly brushed by the caravan, and approached Baloo with more plates of food.

            "Aww, ain't that nice," he beamed. To his chagrin, though, the childrens' mothers came quickly along, and took the food back while muttering apologies to the big bruin. "Well, it was a nice thought, I guess."

            "What was that all about?" Kit wondered.

            "Well, they are quite hospitable here, but..." Tyler leaned over and whispered into Kit's ear, "If you knew what the children were saying, you'd know they were wagering how much he could eat."

            After a brief round of thanks to the natives, the three were ready to head back to the city. Bagheera stayed behind with the intention of joining Myra back at the ziggurat site.

            “Um, wait a minute guys,” Baloo said as they were about to leave. “Anyone wanna trade trade llamas?”

            Meanwhile, a large seaplane bearing Khan Industries insignia on its tail was en route to Alpacatan.

            Richter sat in the main hold, propping his feet over a big crate. He kept quiet through most of the trip and left the pilots alone to their duty, not wanting to be bothered himself. The hold was cluttered with crates of supplies; rifles, ropes, chains, explosives, spare ammunition, and hiking and camping equipment. Lacking no respect for the predators of the jungle, Richter's tools of choice were his machete and grenades, simple preferences compared to the wealth of resources afforded by his employer. He'd let the two flyboys worry about setting up camp and keeping track of the inventory. He had been there many times; the least of any problems they would have would be keeping dry out of the rain.

            He leaned forward and asked his two companions, "Any chance you guys know anything about Conway L-16's? Can they make a round trip from the Cape to Alpacatan without a refuel?"

            "Most planes can't," replied the co-pilot. "It'd have to be modified with extra tanks."

            "Where'd be the most likely place they'd have to stop?" asked Richter.

            "There's only one place out in the middle of all this ocean. It's an island this guy turned into a night club."

            "Yeah, everyone with wings knows about Louie's," said the pilot.

            Richter began polishing his machete on his pant leg. "Let's go there first."

            "Roger that."

            After a moment, Richter leaned forward again. "And for the record, I know what you've been told, and I don't want you tagging along when we get to the jungle."

            "With all due respect, sir, we have our orders."

            Richter almost chortled. "You got any idea what you're getting yourself into?"

            The pilots glanced at each other, not understanding the question.

            "Khan said you had military. That include survival training?"

            "Basic, sure."

            "Basic, huh?" Richter stretched out his left leg, slowly rubbing the bandaging around his thigh, which three months prior had the venomous jaws of an Atronador varan sunk into it, and left him recovering since. The wound had gone much farther than his pride, nearly costing him his life. "You guys got families?"

            "Sure do."

            "Hope you kissed them goodbye when you left."

            “Man, I’m tellin’ ya," said Baloo, "if I ever go back ta that Apla-whatchamacallit, it’ll be too soon.” He could hardly be happier to be back in the Sea Duck, sitting in his comfortable pilot’s seat, the curves of which were far more adept to his backside than anything else, especially saddles. He couldn’t resist giving his mind about llamas to the person who rented them, who simply waved him off with ‘Adios, gordo.’ Kit translated it for him: “He says, 'Beat it, fatso.'”

            “At least we didn’t run into nasty weather,” said Tyler. “Or anything with sharp teeth.”

            “Yeah, but I’d take bad weather an’ sharp teeth any day’a the week over one of them mangey mules.” Baloo looked at Kit, who, leaning on the arm of his chair, rested his head on his hand, keeping a protective watch on the wooden crate as if it were going to disappear any second. “Something ‘bout that box, kid?”

            “Nuh-uh. I just wanna make sure it’s safe.”

            “It’s safe, Li’l Britches,” Baloo chuckled. “Our work’s as good as done. Now will ya relax a little? You ain't even seen the clouds out there. Why don’t ya go out an’ hit the mist for awhile?”

            Kit brightened. “Yeah, good idea!”

            “Hit the mist?” Tyler asked as Kit ran past him.

            “You’ll see,” said Baloo.

            Tyler sat in the navigator's chair, curiously watching the boy, and saw the Sea Duck's rear cargo doors open wide. “Baloo, the back. Kit’s going to fall out---er, Kit!”

            The fox was nearly about to jump out of his seat when Kit grabbed hold of the towrope, leapt out of the plane and dropped out of sight... but suddenly resurfaced with a shiny, chrome airfoil under his feet. Tyler couldn't believe his own eyes. "How... how does he...?"

            “Wa-hoo!” shouted Kit. His sweater flapped vigorously like a flag hoisted in high winds, the air screamed in his face, and he loved every bit of it. Off to his right, he spotted a group of rich cumulus clouds filling the sky that he just had to skim over. “Hey Baloo! Two o’clock!”

            Baloo looked out his window, cupping his ear.

            “Two o’clock!” Kit repeated, this time pointing. Baloo nodded and banked the Sea Duck to the right.

            “Awright!” The cub could actually feel those fluffy clouds already. As the white puffs drew closer, though, suddenly all he anticipated fell into dread. “Pirates!”

            Three CT-37’s cut through the clouds, severing Kit’s towrope in a spray of bullets.

            “Pirates!” cried Baloo. He had no time to react, it was all happening too fast. “Oh no, Kit!” He turned to see the boy gliding down to the ocean on his board. “Hold on, Tyler, Kit fell!”

            Tyler groaned, closed his eyes and gripped the armrests with white knuckles as Baloo flipped the Sea Duck upside down and pulled a hard turn, swooping down to the sea. Kit landed safely, skimming the ocean's surface like a skipping stone before toppling into the water. He used his airfoil as a makeshift life preserver while Baloo brought the Sea Duck down, with the pirates shadowing his wing. They would have an easy capture as soon as the plane stopped.

            “Gimme yer hand, Li’l Britches!” Baloo leaned out the Sea Duck’s side door and lifted the shivering cub out of the water. The pirates had already landed their craft and were ready to board.

            “I-I’m sorry, Baloo," said Kit, his teeth chattering. “Dangit, you could’ve ditched them if it wasn’t for me!”

            “Shh, easy now,” said Baloo, wiping Kit’s dripping brow with his hand. “It ain’t yer fault.”

            Tyler pulled a blanket off the plane's bottom bunk and placed it over Kit’s shoulders. Then all three waited for the inevitable...

            “Allo allo, my pea-brained pillage-ees!” Don Karnage leaped into the Sea Duck, doing his best to appear as dashing as he always knew he was. Mad Dog and Dumptruck soon followed. “My my, Baloo, stealing from you is getting more and more like taking the candy away from the baby-child, yes-no?”

            Then, smiling cockily, he looked at the dripping wet boy. “Ah, and Mister Cloudkicker! Did we enjoy our little swim?”

            “Stuff it, Karnage,” blurted Kit.

            “Tsk, such a rotten tongue!” Karnage drew his cutlass, holding the sharp tip close to Kit’s mouth. “Perhaps you would like me to remove it?”

            “Hey, lay off, Karnage,” Baloo warned. Kit’s fur ruffled, but he choked back further insults.

            As Mad Dog and Dumptruck searched through the plane, Karnage noticed Tyler. “Uno momento...” The captain pointed at the fox with his sword. “I know you from somewhere, yes?”

            “Oh, I uh... I don’t know about that.” Tyler backpedaled into the cockpit and sat on the crate, casually crossing his legs. “I have a very common face, you know.”

            Karnage raised an eyebrow, nodding slightly. “Yes, perhaps...”

            “Boss, there ain’t nothin’ here,” Mad Dog said.

            “No?” Karnage scratched his ear, stumped. “So far away from Cape Suzette with no cargo?”

            “Uh, would ya believe we’re goin’ fishin’?” said Baloo hopefully.

            “Fishing?” Karnage swiped his sword recklessly, making Dumptruck and Mad Dog duck. “You have no fishing poles!”

            Dumptruck took a strong sniff. “Or vorms.”

            Baloo faltered for an excuse. “Uh, well ya see... worms are outta season. ”

            Mad Dog pointed at Tyler. “Hey boss, he’s sittin’ on somethin’!”

            “Uh, well of course I am,” Tyler said quickly. “Otherwise I’d be standing up... right?”

            Karnage scowled at Mad Dog for being so inane. “Yes, of course he is, you fooligan, otherwise he would be...” He paused and blinked. “Get him off of that!”

            Tyler yelped as Mad Dog threw him face first onto the floor. Baloo helped him back up while Karnage stepped up to the crate. “Well well... playing the seeking-go-hiding game for such a little box. I think we should have a look-see, sí?”

            “You can’t have it!” Kit shouted.

            Karnage looked at him as if he was stupid. “Excusé? Who is the pirate around here?” Dumptruck kept his musket pointed at the three ‘pillage-ees’ while Karnage kicked open the top of the crate. When he saw what was inside, he froze, stunned and speechless.

            “Duh, what is it, captain?” asked Dumptruck.

            “I am not believing what I am seeing,” Karnage exhaled. Tucking his cutlass under his arm, he reached in and lifted the golden case. Baloo, Kit, and Karnage’s lackeys let out a collective gasp of astonishment... Tyler could only close his eyes with a bleak groan.

            “I know this,” said Karnage. “It is... it is... now I remember you!” He quickly turned to Tyler. “You and that overgrown hairball! You stole my treasure map!”

            “Actually, we call it a tome,” Tyler absently corrected, until he realized Karnage’s cutlass was up against his neck. “Or, m-map’s fine. Map is a good name. In fact, I like it better!”

            “Look at this, capt’n.” said Mad Dog. He reached in the crate and took out the map Bagheera had charted and folded it open for his boss to see. "What is it?"

            “I would say it looks like..." Karnage smirked at Tyler, "... a treasure map."

            "Keen observation," the fox moaned.

            'He’s gonna ruin everything,' Kit thought. He looked up at Baloo, wondering if he was going to try to stop Karnage from running off with the artifact, but nothing could be done.

            Kit looked Karnage straight in the eye. “You’re... you’re not going to get away with this, not this time!”

            All three pirates couldn’t help but laugh. Kit's face flushed red, knowing he sounded like a fool to them. “Oh, my boy,” Karnage wiped his eyes with his sleeve, “I am afraid I always do, yes-no?”

            Kit's eyes narrowed at him spitefully. "I swear it," he growled, in such a grave tone that it even made Baloo start. He drew Kit behind him and a little further from the pirates, lest more trouble start.

            While Mad Dog and Dumptruck still laughed, the smile on Karnage’s face faded. There was something about Kit’s fiery stare that disturbed him, but he shrugged it off. “Enough of this nincompoopery,” he said. He sheathed his cutlass and carefully secured the golden case in his arms. “We leave now. I have grrreat plans! And remember, my plundered parasites, as I have proven time and time some more, there is nothing you can have which I cannot take away! Hee hee!”

            Kit sneered, disgusted at how many times he heard Karnage say that.

            As the air pirates exited, Karnage made sure he was the last one to step out, and took one final look back at his victims, making sure they noticed the arrogant glow on his face. “Adios!”

            As the sound of the CT-37’s engines faded away, Tyler sat down on the Sea Duck’s bunk, removing his fedora and rubbing his eyes wearily. Baloo sat next to him, taking Kit by the shoulder. "Kit, I know yer upset, but try not ta make that crook any crazier than he already is."

            "Sorry," Kit replied, shrugging away from him. It was an empty apology, no more sincere than if he said it to Karnage himself.

            “So what’re we gonna do now?” Baloo muttered to Tyler.

            “I... I don’t know,” he replied. He threw his hat against the wall. “Confound that pirate.”

            Kit, meanwhile, glared at the pirate attack planes as they disappeared beyond the clouds. 'I swear it...'