Return To Primordial Island, Rick Poldark [top non fiction books of all time .TXT] 📗

ground once used for human sacrifice. However, since the lizard men started attacking the Umazoa, all worship and rituals had ceased.

The Umazoa thought that they had angered the gods, which resulted in this reptilian plague upon their tribe. They also believed Peter was imbued with the power of the sun, which they regarded as a deity, to right their wrongs. Peter, of course, had tried to explain to them what had happened, but much was lost in translation, and the Umazoa were resolute in their beliefs.

The entrance to the temple was dark, so Peter unbuttoned his shirt, allowing the glowing orbs in his chest to illuminate the way. The bushes rustled behind him and two lizard men darted out, dashing towards him. However, Peter was unconcerned as they shoved past him to enter the temple, leaving him unharmed. Peter smiled to himself.

He broke into a jog, attempting to keep pace with them. He remembered the room with the intertwining paths of multi-colored tiles and the side doors that unleashed velociraptors, as well as the Dilophosaurus cave. Surely, there was a more direct way to the lizard men’s den.

He followed them to the door with the reptilian face crudely painted on it. They entered the room with the tiled paths, but instead of taking the paths, one-by-one, they jumped into the pit. Peter watched them, smiling. He knew this wasn’t suicide. To be sure, he reached out and sensed their life forces, like lanterns in the dark.

Peter walked to the edge of the pit, keeping one eye on the side passages for any velociraptors. He felt their presence behind the rolling stone doors, waiting for a meal. He leaned over the edge of the chasm before him and squinted to see in the darkness, crouching for a closer look. There it was, a narrow shelf clinging to the sheer wall of the cliff. He reached out and felt their essences move away, and when they were far enough, he lowered himself down.

Clinging to the wall so as not to fall into the chasm, he side-stepped his way to a tunnel entrance. He thought of his tabletop role-playing gaming and smiled again—search for hidden passages. He entered the tunnel, using the two orbs that resided in his chest to illuminate the way. He crept along as it sloped downward, and he sensed the den of lizard men in the distance.

Before long, he was in the room with the massive pitcher plants. He looked up at the holes in the rock cavern above, remembering the horror of the Dilophosaurus cave. He walked around to the opening with the reptilian carving depicting the large, obsidian eyes and passed through. The subterranean city was drawing closer. He felt it, and the orbs in his chest pulsated in response.

He passed the reptilian statues and descended the stairs that led to the city below. The last time he saw these stairs, they were covered in dust from sitting unused for ages. This time, there was no dust. As he descended, he saw them—hundreds of lizard men traversing the city, walking the streets, entering and leaving buildings.

When he reached the bottom, two sentries grasping long spears guarded the entrance. However, when they saw Peter, they parted, allowing him admittance. They watched him with those large, black eyes, their faces cold and expressionless, except for the occasional flaring of the dewlaps on their throats. Their bodies, however, emanated heat. Peter mused how reptiles—at least in this dimension—must’ve evolved from these progenitors, becoming cold-blooded as an adaptation to living above ground in the sunlight in warm climates.

As he walked the streets, Peter sensed life all around him, but he was seeking out one life in particular—the chief. Unfortunately, his newfound powers didn’t provide him the ability to distinguish between beings. He kept an eye out for a prominent building, one that looked like it might house the tribal chief.

The subterranean city looked different from the last time Peter saw it. Prior, when he had first discovered the orb of life, it was barren. Now, various multi-colored, floating orbs illuminated bustling streets. The lizard men had wasted no time in rebuilding. As he looked around, Peter wondered at their actual numbers.

He also wondered if he should have spent more time down here after reawakening this ancient race. He had figured he’d leave them alone to reacquaint themselves with an island that had moved on in their absence. He had believed a policy of non-interference was best, respectful even. Now, he realized his folly. His absence had made him less of a presence in these reptilian beings’ lives.

Although he was viewed as a deity amongst them, the lizard men’s concept of piety was somewhat unusual, at least to Peter. They acknowledged him, but chose to remain aloof. The distant clockmaker, he had set their civilization in motion and left them to their own devices, and now he was repaid in kind. This reaction, however, was preferable to the savage violence they typically greeted other humans with.

He paused at an intersection, where a black orb floated above the ground at waist height. Passersby would swipe a three-clawed hand over it, pausing, and moving on. Peter knew that the orbs served to transmit information. He figured if he touched one, it might provide a clue as to the whereabouts of the chief. He reached out, the two orbs in his chest brightening, and touched the top of the black orb with the palm of his right hand.

Visions conjured in his mind’s eye of news, prominent figures, and ideas that he wasn’t quite able to translate into human terms. Knowing he could interact with the orbs, he reached out with his mind, asking the orb about the chief in the best way he knew how. Countless visions toggled through his mind, and he swooned. Overwhelmed, he staggered but kept his hand on the orb. Finally, when it became too much,