Torchwood: Exodus Code Read Online Free PDF Page B

Turning to face her daughter, she said, ‘I’d hoped the burden of the mountain would never be yours to endure, but I’m afraid it may be your destiny after all.’
    Directly beneath them a fountain bubbled, its water drawn from an underground spring that was part of an ancient aquifer that kept life in this high desert. Dotted around the hacienda were similar fountains, each one considered sacred, and, according to the stories reprinted in every brochure and website for the hotel, had been flowing continuously since the area was first populated in ancient times.
    Next to the Inca trails that began a few kilometres from the hotel and the nearby Nazca lines, the baths were a tourist draw. The water from the sacred valley was believed to have properties that made men swoon and women shiver; that made love sweeter and bodies more alluring.
    Now, crouching alone behind the tower wall, her binoculars resting on the crumbling surface, Isela finally spotted a cloud of dust on the far horizon.
    At last. The mark.
    The first bus of the day from Lima was coming off the highway and climbing up onto the canyon pass, and this one was bringing her ticket out of this stifling town.
    Picking up her automatic rifle, Isela checked the cartridge, sighting it into the shadows above the café.
    The
cóndor
was staring up at the tower. Isela ducked out of sight.
    ¡Que huevón!

Gaia

8
    Southern Coast of Peru, 1930
    GAIA’S SENSITIVITY TO the world outside the temple had been further proof to the Cuari that she was indeed their guide, their star scout, the sacred spirit described in the ancient prophesies as the one to come before, the one who would prepare the way for the deity when he returned to begin the end of times. For the High Priestess, such affirmation had never been necessary. For she had known that Gaia was a spirit guide since the night of her birth, which she had witnessed: Gaia’s first howl, her mother’s last breath. Gaia had burst from her mother’s womb, limbs and tail first, encased in a thick membrane.
    The Priestess, an old woman even at Gaia’s birth, had become her guardian and her teacher. From early in her childhood, Gaia could hear when the crops should be harvested, could taste the wind before it blew, and feel the rains from the sea before the clouds scudded the storms inland. Gaia felt pain when she was not hurt, heard singing when it was silent, and at night she travelled beyond the mountain to the stars.
    Gaia had learned divination from the rocks and the birds and even as a child she had demonstrated her quick wit and her eidetic memory. The old Priestess had taught her to read the ancient scrolls when she was barely able to walk to fetch them. Gaia could hold the Cuari’s stories in her head, glyph for glyph as she read them, remembering the names of every child born in the village since the conquest.
    How many nights had the old woman bathed her in oils to quiet her spirit when it raced across the heavens, her body convulsing against the ground, her being so sensitive to the material world that her screams could wake the gods.
    Perhaps they finally had.
    For her part, Gaia knew her place in the Cuari was a special one, but she also knew that her place in the cosmos would be even more acclaimed. Gaia and the old Priestess had been watching the signs from the mountain since the winds had sheared off its crown during the cold season.
    If this man who had fallen from the heavens was the being prophesied since ancient times, then the oracle had told the truth and Gaia must prepare to fulfil her purpose. Gaia could barely control her excitement as she finished dressing, sticking wax plugs into her ears, her excitement filling her head with music.
    The old woman placed her rough hands, the hands of a farmer as well as a holy woman, gently on Gaia’s shoulders. Even a priestess had to work to sustain life in the tribe. No matter how sacred their purpose, they still had to eat.
    ‘The elders will go with you to