Night of November 19

by rann

Disclaimer:  The characters from "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" are owned by Telescene, NewLine Television, The Over the Hill Gang, Coote/Hayes, etc.  No profit is being made from this story.  No infringement upon copyrighted material is intended.

Setting: Just after the meteor shower in the Hagan village on the night of November 19th, 1922.

Spoilers:  Fire in the Sky, Mark of the Beast, Camelot, Prophecy, Travelers, Cave of Fear, Stone Cold, Resurrection.

Description:  Marguerite finds a most unusual gem as the explorers actually go back to try and retrieve lost guns and other pieces of equipment.  How much difficulty could that cause?  It all begins following the night of November 19….

Thanks:  Especially to Ariadne, who listens patiently to my ramblings and keeps me on track and to CMS for making me improve and to Susannah for enjoying the stories.

A/N:  I've been bothered by the cavalier attitude the explorers have toward losing guns and other items, so I decided to have them actually try to retrieve some of their equipment.  Additionally I think Roxton's personal crisis was given short shrift in the ending of the episode, so included is my attempt to remedy that. 

Recap of Fire In the Sky:  While tracing the source of a river, Challenger, Veronica, and Malone find out an explorer Pierson Rice is living with the Hagans.  Unsure of what to expect they send a mirror signal to Roxton and Marguerite to join them.  Rice was with Roxton in Kenya where his brother was shot.  While in the Hagan city they discover Rice is plotting to take over the throne.  During a battle Malone killed one of his minions, Lawrence.  A meteor killed Pierson Rice as he held aloft a barrel of gunpowder ready to throw it at Roxton. The Hagan queen was rescued and has declared the explorers friends. The Scorpius meteor shower is filling the night sky this 19th of November.  Everything is all right. Marguerite walks away from the group, closely followed by Roxton.  Now all they have to do is go back to the treehouse….

The night of November 19th

"Not even the Chinese New Year celebrations rival this."  Marguerite commented to herself, pausing by the stone balustrade overlooking the town below the plaza.

Meteors rained down from the sky, lighting up the plateau in a spectacular manner.  The Scorpius Meteor shower was an incredible display of brilliance.

"What was that, Marguerite?"  The husky voice of the tall hunter was right behind her.  His long arms bracketed her as he placed his hands on the railing on either side of her.  Turning, she dropped her head to hide the involuntary smile that came to her lips.  No matter how welcome they'd been made, she should realize he'd not leave her on her own for any length of time in strange place.  This corner of the plaza was deserted, the Hagans flocked around their nearly destroyed queen.

"Come to fetch me back, John?"

"More like come to join you.  No need to rush back to the others."  He reached up with one hand to push a strand of hair over her shoulder.  His expression was unreadable.

"Not even with the threat of my singing?"  Marguerite tried to gauge his mood as her eyes lit with mischief.

"As long as it's not that bird song again."  Even as he gave a perfunctory smile, his eyes took on a faraway look.  The hunter became lost in his thoughts

Instinct told his beautiful companion what was bothering Roxton, and of his need for solace. "He's gone, John.  Caught in a web of his own making.  If anyone deserved that fate, it was him."

"When William died, I learned to hate him.  He planned on killing Challenger and the others.  He almost killed you, Marguerite, and still I didn't have the stomach to smash in his skull."

"You don't have to apologize for not killing someone, John."

He looked at his love's face.  All the pain of his soul was mirrored in her eyes.  He pulled her close.  Her head rested against his chest, he wrapped an arm around her slender waist and the other across her back to keep her nestled against him.  "I should have taken revenge.  For William, for you."  He could never take revenge for his own pain.  But he felt the need to avenge those closest to him when they were made to suffer.  His eyes looked into the past.  "It's not like I haven't before."  His voice was muffled against the top of her head.

"The last time it simply happened too quickly.  You just reacted.  Vordred didn't leave you any choice."  She pulled back a bit to look into his face so he could see her sincerity.  She remembered how stunned Malone and Veronica were that Roxton killed Gawain's advisor.  After Vordred had thrown the knife that pierced her side, he was unarmed.  But Roxton never hesitated, his fury was unleashed.  The sword was still in his hands and he stabbed Vordred through the heart, barely pausing before dropping to his knees and holding her close.  His tenderness had been in sharp counterpoint to the rage that had held him seconds before. 

"I've never regretted Vordred's death.  I thought he had murdered you."  Roxton paused, his face grim, implacable.  "No one hurts you and walks away."  He still was chilled by the memory of Marguerite dying when trapped in Askwith's cursed realm.  Had Marguerite not lived, Captain Marchbanks' fate had been sealed.  Nothing would have prevented him from avenging her.

She inhaled sharply.  This was too close to a declaration for either of them.  "I only seem to bring you pain."  She raised her hand to stroke his cheek where Rice's stooge, Lawrence, had struck him.

"You defied Rice.  … For me.  Did you really think I'd let one of his goons hit you?"  He pulled her back into his embrace, soothed by her closeness, thankful for her safety, not ready to talk anymore.  The memory of her slender back pressed against his was still vivid in his mind.  The deviousness of the captors in entwining their arms together so any struggle he made would hurt her still caused him to shudder.

***

"I can't believe that meteor actually hit Rice.  What a story for my journal!  No one will believe it." 

Veronica smiled at the reporter's enthusiasm.  "That's the plateau for you.  Always another unbelievable story."  They paused on the plaza of the Hagan city.  The sharp eyes of the jungle-raised woman looked in vain for their dark-haired companions.

"Nothing will be able to top this one!  Shall we try that direction?"  Glancing around Malone pointed to the left and the two began walking in that direction.

"They should be around here somewhere.  Leave it to Marguerite to take off before we had a chance to tell them where the house is."  The blonde jungle beauty was easily exasperated with their companion.

"It was nice of the Hagans to offer us a place to stay while we're here."

"Marguerite would say it's the least they could do."

"Let's find them.  I want to get down the details of Roxton and Marguerite's journey while it's still fresh in their minds, not to mention Roxton's fight with Rice."

"Ned, give Roxton some time before talking about this.  You heard what Challenger said about how devastated Roxton was by Rice's part in his brother's death."  They rounded a corner of small structure whose entrance was picked out with the rib bones of an extremely large dinosaur.

"I know, Veronica, but it's important to get the details down as soon as possible.  You want to capture the immediacy of an event."  Veronica's hand touched his arm. He stopped walking and fell silent.  Ahead of them were they're missing comrades, the beautiful linguist locked in the embrace of the tall hunter.  His head rested on the top of hers.

Veronica jerked her head back and they retreated around the corner of the building.  Once around the corner, they stopped.  "I guess we should give them some warning." Malone suggested in a whisper.

"What is with Marguerite?  You think that she might have tried to comfort Roxton instead of looking for him to hold her."  Veronica was disgusted with the beautiful explorer, ready to see fault.  And deep inside, angry that she had Roxton's devotion, when she and Malone seemed to be at cross-purposes.

"Maybe she is comforting him.  Roxton may feel better if he's thinks he's in control."  Malone looked wistful.  Veronica was not the kind to even allow him the illusion that he was in control.  One of her most admirable and aggravating qualities was her inability to compromise.

Veronica looked puzzled at the idea, but had long since given up on trying to find anything she considered normal about the relationship between the older couple.  Raising her voice, she called out "Say, Malone, which way should we try?  Marguerite and Roxton have to be here somewhere."

"Let's try this way first."  Malone matched her volume.  With a smile for her tact, he walked around the building.  Roxton was standing next to Marguerite as they faced them, his left hand resting on her right shoulder.  If either was blushing the light was insufficient to betray them.

"As you can see you found us."  Marguerite's dry tone didn't reveal her thoughts.

"Good," Veronica was curt; "we wanted to show you where we're staying tonight."

"Lead on," was the hunter's only response.

The next morning

Challenger squinted against the morning sun as the explorers left the Hagan city. 

"It was most considerate of the queen to give us so much in the way of supplies."  Challenger commented, pushing past some encroaching bushes as they made their way through the forest.

"It seems the least she could do, after all we did."  Veronica and Malone exchanged a grin at having so accurately predicted Marguerite response to Hagan hospitality.

"Doesn't replace our lost rifles."  Roxton remarked as he adjusted his pack more comfortably.

"I'm sure I don't want to fight a sea monster to get them back."

"It's not a sea monster, Marguerite, it's a plesiosaur and I can't conceive of how it can be living in a river."

"George, if that thing isn't alive, it's giving a good imitation of it."  The expedition's linguist was clear on that point as she picked her way down the trail.

"I'm willing to risk it."  Malone put in.

"Not again, Malone.  You're not invincible."  Veronica was angry.  She missed Malone for so long.  Now it seemed as if his recklessness might separate them again

"I've survived so far."

"You won't if you keep taking foolish risks."  Veronica had lost patience with Ned's insistence on dashing into trouble.  She didn't see Ned's resentful glance at her words.

"We can't decide anything now." Lord Roxton put in decisively, trying to end the younger couple's squabble.  "Let's see what we find where our dugout went down."

"You mean was sunk by an extremely large and irate plesiosaur!"  Marguerite amended.

"This requires further study.  How can it be surviving in fresh water?"  Challenger was once again caught by the scientific puzzle.

"Very nicely, thank you.  It seems to be depending on stray travelers for sustenance." The retort from his beautiful companion brought a smile to the hunter's face.

"Just the same, Marguerite, we need to retrieve our rifles and packs.  There's no way to replace them."

"And you want me to go with you to collect them from the bottom of the river?"  She glanced back at the British nobleman incredulously.

"You swim so well!"

Rolling her eyes, Marguerite, continued trekking through the jungle.

The pace was easy.  This part of the plateau seemed unpopulated by dinosaurs.  The bustle of the Hagan city and the traffic it brought discouraged the wilder animals so the larger game had migrated to where the pickings were easier.

"You know compared to many of the settlements we've found on the plateau, the Hagans are reasonably technically advanced, particularly in metallurgy."  Challenger mused.

"Do you think we could get them to copy some spare parts for our guns?"  Roxton had been worrying lately about the eventual deterioration of their firearms.

"Oh, I'm sure of it.  Now we would have to be careful not to have them duplicating our weapons.  But having them work on some of the parts shouldn't cause a problem."

***

"Best make camp for the night.  We'll follow the trail along the riverbank tomorrow."  Roxton eyed the clearing near the river.  A glance at the sky warned him that the light wouldn't hold much longer.

"At least we have enough for dinner, with all the food the Hagans gave us."  Veronica began looking in the packs as she spoke.

"I'll get some firewood." Malone started off into the jungle, glancing at Roxton who nodded and went along.

Marguerite picked up the canteens, deciding that filling them would let her take advantage of the time to wash up as well.

Challenger interspersed collecting stones for the fire ring with observations on the local insect population.

***

The moon was high in the sky.  After a quiet meal and ensuring that there was sufficient wood to see them through the night, the explorers settled down.  Challenger spread out a blanket and covered his eyes with his hat. 

Roxton was amused as he noticed, despite their arguing back and forth today, Ned was putting his blanket next to Veronica.  He looked over to see Marguerite settling in on the opposite side of the fire.  As he towered over her she glanced up and smiled at him in response to his:  "Did you leave me room?"

"Why, Lord Roxton, what are you suggesting?" she teased.

"That I don't want to find a rock under my blanket!"  He had watched her earlier scouring the ground for larger sticks and rocks and removing several.  The area she had cleared would accommodate two blankets. With a grin for her that she pretended not to notice, he spread his blanket next to hers.

His smile faded as he considered something else.

"What is it, John?"  Marguerite's tone reflected her sensitivity to his mood.  The British nobleman sat silent for a moment as he considered his words.

"I never thanked you."

"I didn't do anything."  Their voices were pitched low enough so their companions weren't likely to overhear them.

"If it wasn't for you, I don't know how I would have borne the trip upriver, knowing I'd be facing Rice at the end of it."  The sadness in his face bore testament to the grief dealing with Rice had renewed.

Marguerite's hand reached out and stroked his cheek, tracing the bone and letting her fingers slip into his hair.  He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand.  He managed a slight smile.

"John, it was never your fault.  You tried your best to save your brother.  If you hadn't tried the shot, the ape would have killed him.  Your choices were do nothing or try.  Would you honestly feel better if you had done nothing?"

"Maybe."  He was silent for a minute, staring into the blackness of the jungle. "What worries me most, is that for so long, I wanted to be Pierson Rice.  That could have been me back there.  Trying to run things.  Indifferent, callous, cruel."

Marguerite reached up and gently turned his face towards her.  "No, John, that could never have been you."  The truthfulness of her words was reflected in her eyes.

"You didn't know me then.  If you thought me arrogant when you first knew me, you should have seen me before."  He attempted another smile, but didn't succeed.  He swallowed convulsively.  He needed to tell someone, but dreaded the reaction of this woman who had come to mean so much to him.

"We'd gone to Africa to do some hunting.  I talked William into it.  He had his fears, but we'd face them together; the heir and the spare." A mirthless laugh escaped him.  "I didn't want to be Lord Roxton.  I was happy that it fell to William.  But I needed to be something other than the surplus son. Once we joined the safari in Kenya I emulated Rice's behavior.  Rice was an adventurer.  That was what I had decided to be.  I thought this must be how one was supposed to act.  Swaggering through the camp; ….dictatorial towards our bearers;  ….intolerant of William's fears.  Instead of being near my brother as we hiked through the jungle, I was at Rice's heels." 

His eyes no longer saw the plateau jungle; they were fixed on a jungle an ocean away. 

"Then the ape dropped down from the trees, I swung around.  It was as if everything had slowed.  I can still hear every sound, the ape's growls, my brother's cries, Rice's shouts to shoot, even the squawks from the birds in the trees.  I can feel the oppressive heat of that day, the weight of the rifle in my hands.  Smell the vegetation; taste the heaviness of the air.  And god, can I see.  The ape, William's struggles.  And then there was no time.  I saw the ape in my scope. I exulted at the shot ….and then," Roxton swallowed around a lump in his throat.  "I saw William's eyes; realized he was down."  The last was barely above a whisper.

The hunter stopped, his eyes downcast, unaware of the small hand covering his larger one.

"Afterwards I was by his side.  I sat holding William.  I don't know how long.  One of our guides brought a blanket, but I still sat.  Eventually they brought a stretcher.  Someone helped me to stand.  I don't remember much of what went on around me at that point.  All I could see was William's face."

Roxton looked into the fire, his expression bleak.

"Then I saw Rice, striding around giving orders in his usual imperious manner, insisting that the dead ape be brought back.  A trophy."  Roxton's voice failed.  His fingers closed tightly around the delicate hand he held.  If there was any pain, Marguerite gave no sign of it; but gripped his fingers just as tightly. 

"I saw Rice, but I also saw myself, what I was becoming.  My brother's death changed that.  I knew Rice for what he was, instead of what I imagined him to be; what I wanted him to be."  A stillness fell over the hunter.  The cathartic sensation of having let his emotions out left him drained.  He wanted to turn from the woman beside him, fearing what she would think of him.  But whatever else he was, he would not be a coward; at least not in this.  With some dread he lifted his eyes to hers.

"You couldn't have known, John."  He saw with amazement the moistness in her eyes.  For him, ready to shed the tears he wouldn't, couldn't. 

"I thought I had found some measure of peace when I believed Rice was dead.  To see him again, to relive those last days in Kenya, the day I shot my brother."  He saw her move to protest his words.  He shook his head.  "Relive those days as I made arrangements to bring my brother's body back.  Trying to find the words to telegraph to my father.  Knowing he would have to tell my mother by himself."  With his thumbs, he gently wiped the tears on his lady's cheeks. "What was so horrifying was that my grief was incomprehensible to Rice.  He was dumfounded that I actually mourned."

"He didn't understand caring for another person."  She tried to get her emotions under control. He didn't need to deal with hers as well as his.

"He actually speculated on how improved my expectations were."  He caught another tear as it slipped out from the corner of her anguished-filled eyes.

"John, you were never like him.  We make our heroes from one part truth and nine parts wishful thinking.  Even a good man couldn't live up to that.  You were young.  You couldn't have known what a man such as Rice would be like. You saw his prowess as a hunter and thought it meant he had all the virtues you have.  You've become the man that you thought he should be."

Roxton smiled sadly to hear her extol his character.  He was sure he didn't deserve the paean, but her unconditional support was reviving his soul.  It wasn't right, it would never be right, but for now it was a little better. He looked closely at the woman who had been his mainstay since the beginning of this nightmare of an encounter, some of his heartache easing.  His time in the Tibetan monastery may have made it possible to function again, but it was what he found in Challenger's study three years ago that gave him life.

"And there you were willing to face death with me rather than trying one of your infamous flirtations to delude Rice."  He was actually able to pull a slight smile.

"Oh, I just didn't think he'd fall for it, that's all."

Roxton shook his head, he knew better.  "He'd made his admiration for you plain enough.  And he'd have taken you up on anything… just to rub it in my face."

Marguerite looked down at the ground.  "That's why I couldn't"

He looked at her in wonder. Whatever had he done to deserve her?  He knew their companions usually thought of her as the fortunate one in their relationship, but they didn't know her.  A tranquilness settled over him.

"Come on, let's get some sleep."  Roxton stretched out on the ground, holding out his left arm, offering her his shoulder for a pillow.  When they were out on their own, they usually slept in each other's arms using one pretext or another.  Sometimes it was warmth, or cramped quarters or he 'forgot' an extra blanket.  When the others were with them, they tried to maintain a more decorous distance.  The dark-haired beauty looked around to see if any of their companions were still stirring. 

The hunter smiled to see her shyness, such a contrast to the boldness she would exhibit when luring prey into her net.  It pleased him.  She was only reluctant to reveal honest emotion to others. She never hesitated when it was the façade she would don to defeat their foes.  Or to put a too bold hunter in his place.  She was just what he needed. 

Seeing the others settled she nestled into his side, her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her cheek, her arm resting on his chest as well, as his arm curled around her encouraging her to move even closer.  The soft stroking of his hand from her shoulder to her waist soothed them both as they drifted off to sleep.

***

As dawn approached the hunter reluctantly stirred.  His hand had lost itself in the dark curly hair that flowed across his lady's back. He knew she wouldn't want the others to wake and find them like this so they'd best separate.  In truth he wasn't one for public displays either. They had moved even closer during the night.  One of her legs lay over his.  He had pulled her tight against his side.  Her proximity was having a predictable effect on him.  Kissing the top of her head, he gently slid her over onto her blanket, folding one side over her to compensate for the missing warmth of his body.

"John?" The faintest sleepy whisper came to him.

"Shh, just sleep now."

And in the predawn light, welcoming the coolness of the air to calm the heat of his body, he drew his hat over his eyes and tried to do the same.

***

The morning was fair and saw the explorers quickly breaking camp.  To everyone's relief, Malone still had some coffee in his pack.

"Thank God, for you Neddy-boy. I don't think we'd have survived the day without it."

"Are you saying that an intrepid hunter such as yourself, couldn't face Marguerite without coffee."  Ned was smart enough to keep his voice down as he jibed at Roxton.

"I'm saying a wise man knows there's some game you don't want to hunt." 

"I heard that."  Marguerite's voice was irritable, but the rich, full-flavored brew tempered her displeasure.

With a grin for seeing the tall hunter once again facing the dark haired beauty's sharp tongue, Malone slipped away to help Veronica collect a few more pieces of fruit for the trail.

Chuckling, because provoking Marguerite was always a source of enjoyment for him, Roxton turned to the scientist. "Ready to go find our plesiosaur, Challenger?"

***

Half a day later, the explorers were at the bank of the river where Roxton and Marguerite escaped from the aquatic prehistoric reptile. Dense vegetation surrounded the clearing by the bank.  A single path lead away from the water.  The overhanging trees shrouded the area.  Only a few bushes were near the water.  Further back the sunlight had promoted the growth of the nearly impenetrable hedge surrounding the explorers.

"I'm sure this is the spot.  Here you can see the marks we left when we climbed out of the river."

"Where about were you on the river?"

"Nearly dead center, Challenger."

"Nearly dead, being the operative words."  Marguerite put in tartly.

"I should be able to make it in a couple of trips."

"Roxton, no!  It's not worth risking your life."

"We don't have enough guns to risk losing these."  He gave her an encouraging smile.  "Besides that rifle's my favorite."

"All right," a sigh accompanied this.  In an astringent tone to the others she said, "but make sure you have a fire going for when I get back.  I'll need it to dry out my hair."

"No, Marguerite, I can do this myself."

"There's too much for you to carry.  If we both go we can get there and back in one trip, less time in the water, less time to run into our friend."

"You don't need to do this."

"You're not going alone."

"I can go." Malone offered. 

Roxton considered taking the reporter up on his offer, but knew Marguerite was the better swimmer.  "We lost them, we'll get them."

"Give me a blanket for when I come out of the water." Marguerite ordered the British nobleman who obliging handed her one from his pack.  The linguist pushed through to the other side of a clump of bushes that edged the riverbank.  There she could to strip down to knickers and camisole for her swim and enter the water without rejoining the men.  Veronica accompanied her to watch her back

The hunter had also taken his outer garments off once Veronica and Marguerite left.  At least this way they'd be dry when they got out,  "Are you ready, Marguerite?" he called towards the bushes that concealed their female companions.

"As I'll ever be.  What are you waiting for?"  More than a hint of tartness was detectable in her tone.

"Ladies first."

"A fine time for you to decide to be a gentleman."

With a laugh, the hunter dove in and looked around underwater.  It was a bit murky but something the size of the plesiosaur should be visible for some distance.

The hunter surfaced.  "It looks okay."

From the bushes a white streak dove into the water and then surfaced next to him.  The long black hair was securely bound and hung in a tail against her back.

"Ready?"  The hunter inquired as the water streamed from Marguerite's hair.

"No, but when has that ever stopped us?"

The two dove back below the surface and headed toward the site of their downed canoe.

Roxton spotted part of the broken dugout and tapped Marguerite's arm.  She nodded and focused on looking for their packs and rifles, ignoring the hunter's look as he took in her lightly clad body.

Marguerite saw her pack and reached for it, looping it over her shoulder.  She took the rifle Roxton passed to her and nodded to him as he motioned for her to leave.  As she turned a blue flash caught her eye.  Without conscious thought she reached into the silt that lay on the bottom of the river.  She grasped a stone.  She looked back to make sure Roxton was ready to follow her before she began her ascent to the surface.

"Collecting souvenirs, Marguerite?"  He was aware of her under most circumstances, danger only heightened his awareness.

She might have known his sharp eyes would detect her actions. "This caught my eye."  He frowned at the stone she held out.  "I don't know why it sparkled the way it did; not enough light gets through the water."

"That was the flash of blue light I saw?"

"Yes, can we get back to the shore now?"

"I thought you liked swimming in rivers.  Of course you have more clothes on this time, but after you, my dear."

"Lord Roxton!"  The reprimand had a smile she couldn't quite repress.

Keeping a wary eye on the water, the hunter covered their retreat to the shore.

Clambering out onto the shore near where Veronica stood, she gratefully accepted the blanket the jungle girl held out.  For the first time she took a good look at the gem.  Marguerite's gasp of surprise caught Veronica's attention.

"Where did that come from?"

"I found it just now.  It's very odd."  Marguerite handed the stone to her as she gave her attention to briskly rubbing the blanket against her skin. 

Studying the gem carefully, Veronica turned it over and about in her hand. She handed the gem back to the linguist.  "Shall we go get your hair dry?"

Malone and Challenger had a small fire going.

"George, look at this."  Marguerite handed him the gemstone as she hovered near the fire.

Roxton eyed her blanket wrapped figure speculatively, having already resumed his trousers.

"Well, I must say that it certainly is an impressive size – sapphire would you say, Marguerite?"  The overhead canopy formed by the tree provided quite a bit of shade but the gem caught the light from the flames of the campfire.  Blue sparkles lit the shadows.

"Water sapphire, actually"

"Oh yes, also known as iolite."

Before Challenger could expand on a geological analysis Marguerite brought him back to the point she was making. "But look at the cut – it's expertly faceted.  No one on the plateau that I've come across does this kind of quality gem work.  Most of the work I've seen here is more tumbling and polishing, not precision cuts like these."

"Which means – "

"Which means this stone came from outside, probably Antwerp."

"What's that in the stone?"  asked Veronica, taking the stone from Challenger to look at it again.

"An inclusion, a flaw probably, not uncommon in a stone of this size.  Usually it would have been cut into two or more smaller stones to provide better quality stones.  Marguerite's reply was made somewhat absently as she loosened her hair to facilitate drying it.

"Look at that shape that the flaw makes."  Malone pointed out stepping into the sunlight to look more closely at the gem Veronica had handed to him.

"Kind of like some animal." Roxton suggested, looking at it over Malone's shoulder

 "You know the Zanga tell a story about a magic stone that controlled an animal spirit."  Veronica appeared thoughtful.

Marguerite took an instinctive step away. "Please don't tell me we found another stone with a curse.  One was more than enough for me."

"Marguerite, I'm surprised at you, surely you don't believe in magic or curses."  Challenger admonished.

"George, after all we've seen on this plateau, I refuse to dismiss anything!"

"Do remember any of the details of the story?" Ned's journalistic instincts were never far from the surface as he looked to Veronica, handing her back the stone.  The young newsman pulled the journal they had managed to rescue from Rice's home from his backpack.

Pleased to see his interest, Veronica searched her mind for the details of the story.  This was the side of Ned that had always intrigued her, his inventive mind, his gift for storytelling.

"The legend is about a nomadic tribe that was given this stone to protect them.  It was said that when held by the right person, at the right time, an animal appears to follow their commands."

"What kind of animal?"

"I don't recall that anyone ever mentioned the specific animal," she told the reporter.

"You can't possibly put any stock in these kind of stories.  This type of myth abounds in many cultures.  That's why there are so many restrictions on who can cause the phenomenon and when it can be caused.  When it doesn't work, there is an explanation for why the event failed to occur."

"Getting back to the matter at hand," Marguerite knew better than to let Challenger begin another lecture. Facing Veronica she asked "What else can you tell us about that." She gestured at the gem in the blonde's hand.

"All the stories talk about some great need being the reason that the spirit beast is called forth."

The sudden splash of water caused the group of explorers to wheel around to face the river.

"Good heavens, it is a plesiosaur."  The long neck protruded from the water, the mouth opened in a roar.

"I'm glad you're able to confirm that, George, now what do we do?"  The hunter grabbed one of the dry rifles from the ground.

"What's it doing so close to the riverbank?"  Ned wanted to know. Their shouts were nearly drowned out by the commotion caused by the aquatic dinosaur.

"Looking for food, judging by the way it's eyeing us."  The jungle beauty responded.

As if to emphasis Veronica's point, the plesiosaur dove at them.

To be continued