80 AD
The Yu Dragon
by Aiki Flinthart
Smashwords Edition
Copyright Aiki Flinthart 2011
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. This work, and all other books in this series, is under copyright and is the intellectual property of the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover art by Jason Seabaugh of Avatar Art
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Discover 80AD Book One - The Jewel of Asgard - at Smashwords.
And
80AD Book Two - The Hammer of Thor at Smashwords
And
80AD Book Three - The Tekhen of Anuket at Smashwords
And
80AD Book Four - The Sudarshana at Smashwords
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80 AD
The Yu Dragon
Prologue
Feng Zhudai dipped the tip of his brush into a small pot of ink. His lips twitched into a faint, satisfied smile. With his left hand, he caught up the silken sleeve of his robe so it wouldn’t smudge the calligraphy. The brush hovered for an instant over a narrow strip of bamboo. Then, with graceful strokes, the Emperor’s advisor penned an order to execute his prisoner.
Carefully replacing the brush, he allowed the ink to dry before summoning his servant. The man entered timidly, his nose almost touching the floor. Irritated, Zhudai threw the order onto the polished wood.
“Ensure that is carried out before the end of the day.” He paused, dark eyes narrowed in thought as the eunuch scrabbled to pick up the bamboo slip. “And if General Ban Chao or Emperor Han Zhangdi find out, I will know who to blame. This must be done in secrecy. Do you understand?”
The top of the servant’s head bobbed as he bowed and nodded his nervous understanding. Satisfied, Zhudai waved him out and turned back to his desk. He smiled again but anyone watching would not have felt comforted by his expression.
Zhudai moved his long fingers in a curious, twisting motion and a small, dark red-purple flame danced for a moment on the palm of his hand. As he watched, it curled into the shape of a slender woman who sat with her arms wrapped around her knees and her head buried in them. A miniature chain encircled her ankles and wrists. The flame twisted into the form of the sprawled figure of a man, also chained. Zhudai’s unpleasant smile broadened. He moved his hand as though to dismiss the dancing light but, before he could, it shifted again into another shape. This time, a broad-shouldered warrior stalked purposefully across the sorcerer’s narrow palm. He looked...brooding, angry. A sword glinted in his hand.
With a snap of Zhudai’s fingers, the dusky-red flame vanished. His fine, black brows drew together in a frown. He stared blankly at his own hand for a moment then turned to look at the floor as though seeing through it to the levels below. He rose to his feet in a sudden, decisive movement. Sweeping long, black robes around himself, Zhudai strode toward the door on silent, soft-shod feet.
Outside, his secretary eyed the execution order with misgivings. It was the third one this week. At this rate, the Emperor had to hear of Zhudai’s doings. Anyone with any brains could sense a confrontation coming between the Emperor and his pet warlock. General Ban Chao, the only possible stumbling block to Zhudai’s ambition, had been sent on a sudden posting to India. It dawned on the hapless servant that he wanted to be well out of Xijing before Zhudai’s plans came to fruition.
As he pondered how he could arrange to have himself sent to Luoyang before the ri shi, his master appeared suddenly at his side. He jumped and almost made the fatal mistake of looking Zhudai in the eye. He knew it to be fatal, because the name of his masters’ previous secretary had been on an execution list three weeks before.
“Bring me the prisoner,” Zhudai demanded.
His servant glanced in confusion at the death sentence lying on his desk.
“Not that one, you imbecile. The girl. Yajat’s captive. Bring her to me. I think I have a use for her alive, after all.” Without waiting, the warlock vanished back into his rooms, leaving the secretary to stare after him in fearful bewilderment.
CHAPTER 1
Phoenix gritted his teeth, wishing his horse came with shock absorbers. Every jarring hoof-beat lanced pain through his arm. Marcus had set the bone well enough but he really needed Jade’s healing powers. How was he supposed to swing a sword now?
Pushing the thought aside, he stretched out one leg, easing a bruised butt cheek off the saddle. It didn’t help much. They had ridden non-stop since before dawn in an effort to reach Karla Caves. It was taking longer than he’d expected to make their way west. The road toward the coast seethed with refugees from the recently-ended war between the Kshatrapa Bhumaka and the true king, Guatamiputra Sakatarni. Their pathetic footslogging pace made for slow going on the narrow path through the mountains.
Several time so far, Phoenix had physically bitten his lip to stop himself from shouting at the peasant-soldiers trudging homeward. He just didn’t have the patience to deal with this right now. They had to get to Karla Caves and the portal gate to China quickly, or any hope of rescuing Jade would be gone.
For all he knew, she could have already lost her three remaining lives and be dead. A spasm of fear twisted his guts. His brain shied away from the thought but Phoenix forced himself to consider the possibility. If Jade had lost all her lives and was really dead then he was stuck here. Forever.
He glanced around at the dramatic, tropical, humid landscape. A rugged mountain range rose before him, signalling an abrupt end to the enormous Deccan Plateau behind him. So different from the soft, cool greens of England: the heat of the sun; the dark greens of the forest; the heavy, cloying scents of the jungle; even the food wasn’t like Indian food at home in the twenty-first century.
Suddenly, it seemed an incredibly long time since he’d seen his mother; his home; his own time. Memories of his old life were fading: being a thirteen year old at school, aikido training, playing computer games and even the harsh reality of his fathers’ death and his stepfather’s stupidity were all more like a dream. Reality was here in 80AD, India: wars, gods, magic, friends and foes. It wasn’t even that great a reality any more. What had been a brilliant adventure to start with now, frankly, sucked. He’d just about had enough.
A wave of despair swept through Phoenix and he had to swallow hard to keep down a groan. He had come to rely on Jade in the last few weeks. She had been gone just one day and he felt her absence keenly. Everything seemed harder without her quick wits; magical abilities and commonsense. He even missed her pointless worrying. They had been unwillingly and unwittingly thrown together in this surreal game-world over three weeks ago. During their first few days here, Phoenix had, in his carefree impatience to be adventuring, wished her away a dozen times or more. In the past day, since her kidnapping, he’d begged every god he knew, and he’d met several now, to bring her back. It hadn’t worked.
After a full-scale war the day before and hardly any sleep since her abduction, Phoenix now ran on faint hope and sheer determination. He looked across at his grim-faced companions and realised they must be just as weary; just as worried.
Marcus, the battle-hardened son of a Roman Governor, looked older than his 16 years. His dark, curling hair stuck to his forehead as the sun baked them all in its tropical heat. Dark eyes swept the surrounds constantly with a soldier’s trained alertness to danger. Glancing to his left, Phoenix saw Vasi, son of Guatamiputra, riding easily beside Brynn, the youngest of their group. Vasi was clearly tired but Brynn looked worse. The ten year old boy-thief from ancient Britain winced with every hoofbeat; his usually cheerful, thin face screwed into a bizarre cross between determination and pain. The pony tossed its head and Brynn’s eyes widened in alarm. He wasn’t a very good rider.
Prince Vasi, a native of the area, looked the most comfortable in the afternoon heat. His brown skin barely glowed with sweat and he still moved effortlessly in the saddle. It was due to his father’s generosity and gratitude that they were on the road so quickly this morning. Vasi knew the way to Karla Caves and his father provided fresh horses and supplies. Even if they kept going at this slow pace, they should be at the caves before dark.
That hope was dashed the very next moment. Vasi threw up a hand and pulled his mount to a halt. Behind, a servant leading six spare horses, followed suit. Phoenix frowned and dragged back on the reins. Vasi swung down from his horse, leading it off the track, into the shade of an enormous fig tree. His servant followed.
“What are you doing?” Phoenix demanded. “We don’t have time for this. We’re already a night and most of a day behind Jade. If we don’t reach the Caves soon, we may as well have climbed over the Himalayas into China to get to her.” He flung his good hand at the distant, purple mountains to the northeast.
Vasi calmly sank into a cross-legged position on the ground and nodded to his man.
“We need to eat and the horses need to rest. There is a stream over there. We will water them and move on when we are all recovered.”
Phoenix slipped awkwardly off his horse, holding his broken right arm out so it wouldn’t be knocked. His foot caught in the stirrup and he had to hop a few times before it came loose. Brynn snickered, hiding his mouth with his hand. Phoenix glared at him.
“You think this is funny?” He heard the angry edge to his own voice and snapped his jaw shut.
Brynn sobered, staring back at him with solemn, dark eyes.
“Sorry,” Phoenix muttered, turning away. Out of habit, his left hand rested on the hilt of his sword, Blódbál. Its berserker song of glory and death swelled in his head, trying to take over his thoughts and emotions; trying to turn him into the ultimate, amoral warrior. He snatched his hand away, shaken by the power of the song. His emotions were all over the place and the enchanted sword was trying to seize the opportunity to use him as a weapon against his enemies. He had to be careful. If he let it take over he would turn berserker – no longer able to tell enemies from friends. Right at the moment, though, he would have welcomed a few enemies to go berserk on. Inaction was driving him nuts.
Sitting down with a thump, Phoenix dropped his head into his good hand and scrubbed fingers through sweaty hair. His right arm throbbed; the fingers fat and stiff; sharp shafts of pain shot up into his shoulder, dragging at his resolve and strength. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Despair tightened like a band around his chest again. He pressed his lips together. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. Jade couldn’t have lost all her lives and have left him here alone. Surely, when he opened his eyes, she would be sitting right across from him, looking anxious, ready to fix his arm and tell him exactly what he had done wrong so he could argue with her. Half-hopeful, Phoenix opened his eyes. There, sitting across from him, looking faintly concerned, was not her fair, green-eyed, Elven face but Marcus’ handsome, square-jawed one.
“Gaaah!” Anger burst free and flooded his belly with fire. Phoenix sprang up. Marcus stood as well, laying a hand on his own sword, his expression watchful. His friends’ caution inflamed Phoenix’s mood further. He glared at the Roman, grabbed awkwardly at Blódbál and wrestled the magic sword from its sheath with his left hand.
“Get out of my way, Marcus,” he warned. Sitting around was pointless. If Jade was stupid enough to get herself captured and Vasi wasn’t going to help then he would have to go find her, himself.
Marcus eyed him, circling to stay between him and the horses. “What are you going to do?”
“Go get that stupid girl on my own, since you lot are too pathetic to do it with me,” Phoenix growled. Blódbál’s music rose and fell in his head; a symphony eagerly urging him on, feeding his anger at Jade and turning it toward Marcus as the nearer target.
“You can’t save her on your own,” Marcus reasoned. “You’re injured and exhausted. You wouldn’t be able to fight anyone at the moment and you know it.”
His logic annoyed Phoenix further. Marcus was always calm. Faced with death and danger, he barely even blinked an eye. It was irritating. In fact, he decided, it was about time someone taught the arrogant Roman a thing or two.
“Y’think, do you?” he sneered. “I can beat you any day.”
Marcus slid his sword free, his eyes following Phoenix’s slightest movement. “Maybe, right-handed but left-handed? I doubt it.” His derisive chuckle inflamed Phoenix’s rage until it consumed his thoughts.
“Marcus?” Brynn’s question was loaded with doubt.
“Shut up,” the Roman gestured the boy back, “I know what I’m doing.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Phoenix mocked. “You’re always letting Jade do the thinking for you. What are you going to do now she’s not here? No-one to worship and slobber over now. She’s gone. She’s left us to fend for ourselves. She’s probably dead by now and I’m stuck here with you. That’s what people do. They leave when you need them. So why don’t you go, too, Marcus? I know you only came with us because of her,” Phoenix taunted, his mind filled with fury - anger at Jade for being stupid; anger at Marcus for turning against him. He would leave too, so what was the point in prolonging it? He wasn’t needed anyway. Phoenix didn’t need anyone.
He lunged, stabbing with the tip of his sword. Marcus twisted aside but Phoenix had seen the flash of real fear in the Roman’s eyes and he exulted at it. Blódbál urged him on, flooding his mind with the desire to give in to the blood-rage. If he did, Blódbál promised, he would never be unhappy again; never be frightened; never be alone.
Finally, tired of fighting it; tired of being scared and alone, Phoenix did what he had sworn to Thor and his friends he would not. He let go. Letting down his mental barriers against the sword, he felt its full power pour into his soul and rejoiced in the molten, mad energy it gave him.
Now, his enemies would see his real power. The time had come to kill them all. Starting with this cocky little Roman in front of him. Phoenix bared his teeth in an animal growl and advanced on his friend, the red light of battle glowing in his eyes.
The two antagonists prowled around each other. Phoenix was only vaguely aware that Vasi grabbed at Brynn as the boy took a half-step forward.
He heard the prince mutter: “Not now,” as he backed away and dragged Brynn with him.
“But they’ll kill each other,” Brynn’s protest sounded distant and muffled.
“I doubt it,” Vasi shook his head. “Phoenix is grieving for his lost friend. Anger is just one of the stages of grief. Beneath it, he knows Marcus is his friend.”
Brynn shook himself free. “You don’t understand. Phoenix’s sword is magic. It feeds his anger. I’ve never seen him quite this bad before. I don’t think he’s in control anymore. I think the sword is.”
Vasi frowned. “Then we must watch closely. If Phoenix looks like he is going to hurt Marcus, we will intervene. In the mean time, let him get it out of his system if he can.”
Brynn crossed his arms mutinously but stayed put.
For some reason, Brynn’s lack of faith in his ability to control Blódbál stoked the flame of fury in Phoenix even higher. The red mist of wrath narrowed his vision until all he could see was Marcus’ glittering sword dancing in front of him. What right did Brynn, Marcus or anyone else have to question him; to curtail him; to try and stop him? None. They had none. He was their leader. With Blódbál in his hand, he was invincible.
Phoenix lunged, his lips curling into a sneer of disdain. Marcus deftly turned the blade aside and danced out of reach. Phoenix went after him, slicing with a flurry of overhead blows from every angle. Marcus blocked them time and time again, metal clanging against metal in the dusty afternoon heat. Phoenix spun suddenly, dropping low and slicing at Marcus’ legs. The Roman leapt back, barely avoiding Blódbál’s razor edge. By the time his feet were on the ground again, Phoenix closed the gap between them, fury consuming all reason and thought of friendship. He flicked limp, dark hair out of his eyes, unaware of the feral expression that drew his mouth into a snarl and made him almost unrecognisable. He didn’t see Brynn shiver and glance fearfully at Marcus.
The Roman boy was sweating, a frown furrowing his brow as he concentrated, barely keeping Phoenix’s furious sword-strokes from connecting. With the power of Blódbál fully unleashed, Phoenix’s disadvantage in fighting left-handed was all that kept Marcus alive. Phoenix’s exultation grew as he saw Marcus’ breath grow fast and ragged. His parries slowed and twice Blódbál’s tip skimmed close to his chest as he sidestepped to avoid a strike.
Phoenix drew more energy from the sword and redoubled his efforts. His arm seemed to move of its own accord. The song of death blotted out the world. It was only a matter of time. Marcus only just managed to get his sword up in time to block the next vicious overhead blow. He couldn’t last much longer.
Suddenly, Marcus seemed to lose his footing. He stumbled and fell onto one knee. A triumphant laugh escaped Phoenix’s stretched-thin lips. It didn’t sound like his voice but he didn’t care. He stepped closer and raised the bloodthirsty sword over his head to deliver the final blow.
Blódbál descended from on high, straight toward Marcus’ unprotected head.
At the last moment, when death seemed inevitable, Marcus leaned to one side and surged to his feet and brought his shoulder and left arm into Phoenix’s chest as they collided. For a few seconds, Phoenix stood frozen, leaning into the Roman; Blódbál still raised to strike. Abruptly, his mind seemed to shrink back into his skull. Pain blossomed. He dropped his arm to his side and staggered back two steps. The berserker rage drained from his limbs, swept aside by astonishment and blinding agony. He stared in disbelief at Marcus and looked down at himself. A knife handle protruded from his chest.
Blódbál fell from nerveless fingers as Phoenix sank to his knees. Brynn gasped. Beside him, Vasi said Marcus’ name in soft incredulity. Marcus dropped his own sword and came to Phoenix’s side as he sagged. He eased Phoenix to the ground.
Phoenix looked up at Marcus in numb shock. His friend’s dark eyes were filled with pain.
“I’m sorry, Phoenix,” Marcus said quietly. “But I had to do it. Do you understand?”
Phoenix opened his mouth but nothing came out. A blessed feeling of utter relaxation spread throughout his body. For the first time in days, he felt like he could actually get a good night’s sleep. He was a bit cold, though. Maybe if he just closed his eyes….
CHAPTER TWO
Jade awoke feeling distinctly unwell and extremely uncomfortable. Wisely, she kept her eyes closed for a few moments to get her bearings. She had no patience with people in movies who, on getting kidnapped, immediately gave away their wakeful state and started to ask stupid questions like “where am I?” and “who are you?”. No self-respecting kidnapper would tell their victim that sort of information. Plus, if you’re going to escape, letting the badguys know you’re awake is just plain dumb.
So she lay still for awhile, listening; feeling; trying to work out where Yajat had brought her and whether he was still nearby. She lay on her side, with her wrists and ankles bound. Her head rested on cold, unforgiving, hard stone. No light penetrated her eyelids, so it was either night time, or the room was dark. With each breath, she smelled dampness, death and decay. A faint trickle of water somewhere nearby made her both incredibly thirsty and desperate to go to the bathroom. There were no other sounds at all. Her ears rang with the silence.
Emboldened, Jade opened her eyes. It made little difference. A dim square of light in one section of her vision revealed at least one window but it was too dark to see outside. With a suppressed groan, she wriggled and squirmed until she could sit up. Shuffling backward, she eventually hit a stone wall and stopped.
A dungeon then, she realised. Hard on that thought followed a flicker of black humour: that brought her one imprisonment closer to Brynn and Phoenix’s totals of what, six or seven now? Amusement fled as the reality of her situation sank in: alone; captured; bound by iron chains that burnt her skin like fire; she felt weak; tired; hungry and scared. She’d lost count of how many lives she had left but it couldn’t be more than two or three at the most. Now, worst of all, she was separated from her friends.
Leaning her back against the damp wall, Jade finally allowed herself to succumb to the emotion that swelled in her throat. With a quiet sob, she dropped her head onto her knees and cried.
It felt good.
She’d had never been the type to cry for long – it didn’t solve anything – so she soon gave up and wiped her face on her sleeve. The chains around her wrists clanked. She pulled at them experimentally but only succeeded in burning the palms of her hands on the hot-cold iron. At least someone had wrapped her wrists in cloth first, so her skin wasn’t blistering. With a deep, determined breath, she got control of her emotions, leaned her head against the wall and tried to work out how she’d got into this stupid situation. Maybe that would give her an idea for getting out.
The last thing she remembered was Yajat materialising out of the darkness in the temple grounds in Pune in India. Phoenix had been about to activate the portal that would take them all to China for Level Five of this damnable game. Instead, Yajat had appeared, thrown a thin iron chain around her neck and arms and dragged her through the portal with him.
She had a vague impression of some sort of explosion then nothing. This was 80AD. How could there be explosives? Had her friends been hurt? Was she hurt? Jade sniffed again and focussed on the last two questions. A quick assessment of her body showed no injuries, just a few bruises and general weakness that nothing but time, food, sleep and her herbs would fix.
Next she concentrated on the Binding Spell she’d put into place in Albion. The iron chains around her wrists and ankles muffled her Elven abilities but, through the fog of weakness and iron, Jade could faintly sense the unbroken Binding. With a sigh of utter relief, she slumped back against the wall. If the Binding remained whole then the others were still alive. She didn’t have the power to find them yet but at least they were alive and would come for her – eventually.
In the mean time, she should take stock of whatever tools she still had and try to escape this dungeon. She slid one manacled hand across her chest, patting at her clothes, wincing as the chain scorched exposed skin with each movement. Knife: obviously gone. Staff: gone. Amulet? There. Relief flashed through her. Her link to the real world still hung around her neck. The jade and pearl yin-yang ring Cadoc had given her was still on her right hand, too but that was of little importance. Just one more thing… Her long fingers darted in and out of her shirt as a horrible, sinking feeling took over. Gone. The Hyllion Bagia. The bottomless black hole bag that held anything and everything without getting bigger or heavier; gone. It held not only weapons, money and spare clothing but the Horn of Aurfanon. As long as she had the Bag and the Horn, Jade had had hope.
Without the Horn, there was no way of summoning help; there were no hidden weapons; no money to bribe her way free. Nothing. Even worse, Zhudai now held a valuable magical object in his possession; one that could give him enormous power if he worked out how to use it.
Misery descended and tears once more welled in her eyes. What was she supposed to do now? No weapons, no bag, no friends. She missed Marcus’ solid reliability, Phoenix’s impetuous strength; missed Brynn’s sly comments and cheeky grin.
Brynn! The thought struck her and Jade sat up abruptly, eyes wide in the darkness. Frowning, she replayed the last day or so in her head. Yes… yes! The Bag wasn’t lost at all! She’d given it to Brynn during the height of the war in India. He had kept it with him after he’d blown the Horn to summon Garuda to their rescue. She sagged against the wall in relief. OK. So she didn’t have the Bag but at least their arch enemy didn’t have it, either. That was something, anyway.
With her heart lightened a little, Jade began to take more of an interest in her prison. Using the wall, she managed to shove herself upright, though every muscle protested. The thin iron chains dragged strength from her very core and she had to clench her teeth against pain and weakness with every step. Hands outstretched in the darkness, she moved cautiously toward the small, dim square of light in the distance.
Before she reached it, a flickering, orange glow told her someone approached. Quickly, she backed away until she was once more up against the cold, damp stone wall. Ignoring the pain, she twisted the iron chain about her hands like a garrotte, although she had little hope of being able to use it effectively in her weakened state.
The door creaked cautiously open and golden shadows flickered into the dark cell. A small, elderly Chinese man smiled at her and bobbed his head in a series of small bows. Behind him stood a taller, younger man with the muscles and deadpan expression of a soldier or bodyguard.
“Come, come,” the old man said, gesturing at Jade. “The master wishes to see you but first you must bathe and rest. He sends his apologies for the poor accommodation you have been put into. His servant misunderstood his instructions. You are our guest, not our prisoner.” The wrinkled face screwed up in distaste as he eyed her cell. He smiled.
Jade glared at him in extreme mistrust. It could be a trick but what need was there for tricks when Zhudai already held her prisoner? Was it possible that there had been a mistake? That she wasn’t meant to be imprisoned? It made no sense.
The man nodded eagerly. “Come. You will not be harmed. Come. There is food and drink waiting for you in your proper quarters and those chains will be removed.” He held out a hand toward Jade, dark eyes crinkled at the edges as his smile broadened.
She weighed up the pros and cons rapidly. Chains gone, food, drink, bath, rest against deprivation, damp, cold, iron chains and stone walls. No contest. Even if it was some sort of trick, at least if the chains came off there was some chance she could escape.
Nibbling at her bottom lip, Jade followed the old man out of her cell toward the hope of freedom.
*****
Phoenix swam up from the blood-red depths of hell, back to the hellish world of consciousness. For a bizarre fraction of a second, he thought he heard his mother’s voice, thought he smelled a strange, harsh, chemical scent. Then it faded. He opened his eyes and blinked blearily. Marcus knelt over him, looking faintly worried. Behind him stood Brynn, apparently about to be stabbed by Vasi. The Indian Prince caught sight of Phoenix’s face and his jaw dropped, followed by his arm.
“What?” the prince stumbled back, his expression horrified. Brynn followed, murmuring some explanation of Phoenix’s miraculous return to life that must have soothed their friends’ fears somehow. Vasi sat down on a log and gaped at Phoenix.
Phoenix switched back to Marcus and found the Roman watching him.
“Are you well?” Marcus asked in a low, tense voice.
Memory of the fight, his hatred, his determination to kill Marcus, flowed back into Phoenix’s now-clear mind. He groaned. With an oath, he sat up, grabbed at his knife and checked the life-rubies on the hilt. Sure enough, one more of the seven he’d started this game with glinted dull and broken. He now had just three red stones left intact.
“You…you killed me, Marcus,” he fingered the ragged, bloody tear in his shirt. “You deliberately goaded me on and…and you killed me.” Confused and hurt, he looked at the palm of his left hand. It was blank. “But...I don’t understand.”
Marcus gripped the hand with his own and squeezed. “There was no betrayal intended, my friend, so Jade’s Binding Spell remains unbroken. We are still bound, the four of us, on this quest to kill Feng Zhudai. Yes, four of us,” he nodded as Phoenix stared at him dazedly. “If you’d stopped to think, you’d know that Jade can’t be dead if the Binding is whole.”
Phoenix groaned and closed his eyes. “I’m an idiot.”
“Only sometimes - when you let your anger and grief control you,” Marcus smiled, standing up. “Now if you’re finished being one, we can get on with our rescue mission.”
Unthinking, Phoenix put his right hand down to push himself off the ground. Only as he was brushing dust off his pants did he realise his broken arm no longer hurt. He looked at it in surprise, quickly unwinding the rough cloth that held a splint in place. Flexing his fingers, he prodded the bone.
“It’s healed!” He blinked at Marcus.
The Roman nodded. “I thought so.”
“Bit of a drastic way of fixing a broken arm, isn’t it?” Phoenix pointed out.
Marcus shrugged, handing him a water skin. “We need your sword arm and clear head if we’re going to find Jade and defeat Zhudai. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Phoenix choked on the swallow of water he’d just tipped into his mouth. “A good idea? I could have killed you, and then where would we have been?”
Marcus raised an eyebrow at him. “I was never in danger.”
Phoenix opened his mouth, and shut it again. Even through the hazy, blood-red memories of the fight, he realised Marcus was right. He could see it now: the Roman had been cool and controlled throughout the fight; acting fearful for Phoenix’s maddened benefit only. Phoenix, on the other hand, actually fought worse under the arcane influence of the sword, than when he thought straight. Twice now, Marcus mastered him when he’d given in to Blódbál’s insidious song.
Frowning, Phoenix picked up the sword and turned it over in his hands. It hummed a smug, satisfied little tune in his head. He eyed Marcus. The Roman returned his look without expression. Finally, Phoenix sighed and slid the blade back into its sheath.
“I’m not sure whether I should thank you, hit you or apologise,” he clapped Marcus on the shoulder.
“We should water the horses and keep moving,” his friend replied, unfazed.
A short while later, as the mountain-shadows began to stretch far out across the plains behind, Vasi turned the group north, off the main path, onto a narrower one. With the refugees left behind, the travellers moved faster. The track wound precariously along ridge-crests, deeper into the jagged mountains.
Finally, just as the tips of jagged mountain peaks ahead began to nibble at the edges of the sun, the path levelled out and they saw a deep-set curve in the vegetated hillside. Amongst the lush trees and vines, a cliff of bare, exposed volcanic rock came into view, punctured only by regular and obviously man-made holes in the vertical face. The sounds of hammer and chisel echoed down into the valley below.
Vasi drew rein. “The Caves of Karla.” He waved a hand. “Inside you will find only a few Buddhist monks and craftsmen who work on construction of the many temples. If this ‘portal’ you speak of is in there, I do not know where it is. I’ve been here only once, as a boy.”
“Aren’t you coming in with us?” Phoenix peered at the blank, black cave-mouths. Memories of the Naga shivered down his spine.
“I must return to my father,” Vasi shook his head. “This war has left our kingdom in chaos and, with the death of my brother, I am now heir. I cannot be away long or my father will be uneasy. These are a peaceful people. You will be safe.”
Marcus pushed forward and reached out to grip the Prince’s arm. “We are deeply grateful for your help in getting us here. May the gods protect you.”
Vasi bowed his head regally. “And all of you, my friends.” He released Marcus and took Phoenix’s proffered hand. “If…when you find Jade, please tell her I…wish.. I…would like..” the young prince flushed in the dwindling light.
Phoenix grinned at his discomfort. “I get it. I’ll tell her. She has that affect on men, I’ve noticed. But you do know we aren’t coming back this way? If our final Quest is successful then we’ll be going home to our own land and we’ll never see you again.”
Behind, Phoenix heard Brynn’s soft, sharp intake of breath and cursed his own stupidity. He’d forgotten that they’d never actually discussed the end of this game-play with Brynn. Oh, they’d mentioned ‘going home’ offhandedly but never really bluntly stated that they’d never be seeing friends again. Now he’d let the cat out of the bag and there was no Jade to smooth over his thoughtlessness.
Unaware of the blunder, Vasi grimaced. “I feared as much but who knows – stranger things have happened than old friends reuniting.”
“In this world, you have no idea how much stranger,” Phoenix murmured as he released hand, waved and kicked his horse into a weary walk. Vasi and his servant turned and began their long trek home, leaving the three companions to forge ahead alone.
An awkward silence fell between the friends as they approached the entrance to the Karla Caves.
“Are you really going away if we kill Zhudai?” Brynn sounded young and unsure.
Phoenix sighed and nudged his horse over to walk beside the boy’s. “I’m sorry, Brynn. We should have made it clear to you earlier. You know we came to this world by accident. Our goal is to get home to our own lives and families in our own world by completing all the Quests we’ve been set. I’m sorry.” He glanced at Marcus but the Roman boy’s face remained blank, his gaze stoically ahead.
Brynn turned his face away and scrubbed at his cheeks. Phoenix laid a hand on his thin shoulder and squeezed it, not knowing what to say. The boy shrugged it off.
“You ok?” Phoenix asked hesitantly.
“I’m fine,” Brynn hunched a shoulder. “I was fine before you two arrived; I’ll be fine when you’re gone. I can look after myself. Have done for awhile now, in case you’d forgotten.” He sent Phoenix a scathing look and kicked his pony so it trotted ahead a little.
Marcus came alongside. “I’ll look after him.” His eyes were on Brynn’s stiff back.
“Thanks,” Phoenix’s throat was tight. There was so much more to be said but he couldn’t say any of it. Where was Jade when he needed someone good with words and people?
The thought of her pulled his mind back to where it should be. As much as he liked Marcus and Brynn, he had to remember that he and Jade didn’t belong in their world. The problem was, if he couldn’t find and rescue Jade quickly, they may end up belonging here whether they wanted it or not. A sense of urgency in his gut told him time was running out - and quickly.
A minute later, all thoughts of his home vanished as Phoenix and his friends rounded the last corner and saw Karla Caves in all its glory. Half-lit by the last shafts of sunset, the caves cut into the volcanic cliffs took his breath away with their magnificence and sheer scope.
All around lay the evidence of hard work over many years. High in the curving black wall, narrow steps lead to long, low cave entrances, split by carved pillars left to hold the roof up. Down these stairs hurried dozens of monks, clad in flowing orange robes. In the centre of the cliff, at ground level, gaped an enormous, rectangular cave entrance, flanked by two huge pillars. Atop each, lions stood proud and behind them arched a massive window surrounded by intricate carvings of people, animals and geometric designs.
As the travellers dismounted wearily from their horses, a small group of orange-clad monks emerged from this structure and shuffled toward them. As they approached, they moved apart to reveal a bent and frail old man at the centre. Also wearing faded orange robes and with his head clean-shaven, the wizened monk put his hands together and bowed deeply.
“Namaste. Welcome to our home, Phoenix Carter of Cambridge,” he intoned. “The portal is waiting within. You must hurry. There are only three days until the ri shi and Long Baiyu is weak. Even worse, without your strength, Jade Lockyer is in danger of losing the path.”
CHAPTER THREE
Jade followed the old servant up several flights of stairs, noting that her surroundings became progressively more pleasant along the way. The steps went from slippery, dark stone, to polished marble then to polished red wood. Smells changed from damp decay to the enticing aromas of exotic food. From somewhere nearby floated the melancholy sounds of a stringed musical instrument; the unseen musician plucking a strange but pleasant tune. The walls on either side of the stairs began as rough black rock, altered to gleaming wood and then to something translucently white that she suspected was nothing more than thin cloth framed in black wood.
This last change reassured her. They couldn’t possibly hold her prisoner in walls that you could put your finger through. Maybe it had been all a big mistake, like the old man had said.
At last, the servant and soldier ushered her through a sliding door, into a huge room. Jade stopped, staring in surprise. She didn’t even hear the door slide shut behind her as the soldier took up a post outside. This was far from the misery of her cell. Smiling, the old man bowed and gestured for her to inspect the place. After a moment’s hesitation, she did so. A raised bed was half-hidden behind an exquisitely decorated screen in one corner of the room. She ran a hand over the intricate silk coverings and drapes that decorated it. They were in every imaginable colour and embroidered with brilliant designs of birds, clouds and lotus flowers. It was beautiful.
In another area, a low table, surrounded by silken cushions, invited her to relax. Placed perfectly on it was a tea set of the palest porcelain, delicately painted with blue birds. They were paired with a small bowl and set of chopsticks. Her nose caught the enticing scent of fish and vegetables in two gently steaming, covered bowls. Her mouth began to water. Unconsciously, she moved toward the table.
The servant stepped in front of her and she shied back. He smiled reassuringly and held out a key.
“Let me take those off of you,” he tut-tutted at the iron bands around her wrists and ankles. He unlocked the chains and hurried to hand them out the door to a waiting servant. Jade glanced longingly at the food as he returned.
“Soon, soon,” the old man said. “First you must bathe. Through here.” He waved her toward another sliding door. “There are towels, fresh clothing and creams for those burns. Take as long as you need. The food will still be hot when you are ready. Eat, sleep. The Master will see you in the morning. I will send a maid to help you finish dressing, then.” Bowing again, he slid the door closed behind her and she heard his soft footfalls patter into silence.
Listening hard, Jade slid the door open and tiptoed out. Glancing around, she saw the silhouettes of two soldiers standing outside the main door. Assessing her inner strength, she realised she didn’t have enough magical ability at the moment to put a cat to sleep, let alone two guards.
Biting her lip, she turned to look for other exits. There were none. All of the other walls were solid wood. There was one, wide window but a quick look outside told her she was high above an enclosed, ornate courtyard garden with no easy way down and no obvious exit. Golden afternoon sunlight shafted through the room from a pierced wooden screen high up in one wall. If another way out existed, it wasn’t an easy one. In the mean time… she cast another longing look at the food and the bathroom. She might as well regain her strength and get clean.
Within a few minutes – after first working out how to use the hole-in-the-floor toilet facilities - she shed her filthy trousers and tunic and slid blissfully into a standing tub of warm water. Now this was more like it.
*****
Far away to the west, Phoenix, Marcus and Brynn followed their escorts into the grand Chaitya of the Karla Caves temple complex. They passed between the lion-topped columns, beneath the arched window, into a vaulted, colonnaded room that made even Marcus blink in astonishment. Sixteen metres overhead, curved wooden beams supported a stone ceiling, mimicking an upside down boat hull. Marching down both sides of the wide hall were rows of hand-carved stone pillars topped by intricately carved figurines. Just this hall alone represented thousands of hours of labour with the basic hand tools Phoenix had seen so far. If their guides were to be believed, there were dozens of other halls carved out of the very guts of the mountain; hewn with love by the monks who followed the peaceful path of the Buddha and all he taught.
The sound of their horses’ hooves echoed like gunshots in the enormous room, making Phoenix uneasy. There had been some contention amongst the monks about allowing the animals inside the hall but their objections had been overruled by the elderly Lama. He listened to every argument with a benign smile then bowed to his advisors and calmly told them his decision: the travellers and their animals were to pass through the great prayer hall; it was necessary. Silenced, the monks followed their aged leader. Ignoring them, he shuffled ahead to catch up with Marcus; murmuring into the Roman’s ear.
Finally, deep inside the hall, the monk stopped. They had reached the farthest corner, behind a large, domed stone structure that shadowed the end wall in darkness.
“There,” he pointed with a bent finger. “The Portal is in the far wall. You know how to use it and where to go. Good luck, young ones.”
“Don’t we even have time to stop and eat?” Brynn whispered at Phoenix’s elbow. His young face was pinched with exhaustion and hunger. None of them had slept much the last few days and their meals had been sketchy at best.
Phoenix cast an inquiring look at the Lama, who shook his head regretfully, bowed and said: “The diamond can only be polished by friction; the man perfected by trials.”
After staring at him for a few moments, Phoenix turned to Brynn. “I think that meant ‘no’.”
The Lama sighed. “I am sorry, young man but your friend is in danger and it is up to you three to save her. The ri shi coincides with the Qingming Festival and Zhudai will be greatly strengthened at this time. If you wait, it may be too late and the balance of the world will be upset forever.”
Brynn groaned. “So we have to go save the world again, huh? Seems to be a regular thing in my life since I started travelling with you. It’ll be nice to get back home where the only thing I have to worry about is how to pick the purse of the nearest Roman without getting caught.”
Phoenix caught the faintest flash of fear and hurt beneath the boy’s bravado.
Marcus and Brynn moved over to the doorway and Marcus stretched out his hand to touch the stones. Phoenix hesitated, looking back at the old monk.
“Hang on,” he folded his arms across his chest. “We do know where to go and how to use it but how do you know so much about us and about Jade. Are you some sort of magician? Do you have special powers that told you we were coming?”
The old face crinkled in childish delight. “Dear boy, I am not anything special but you and your friends are. I have known you were coming for many years. When your friend, Cadoc, arrived through the portal a few days ago and asked for you, I knew your arrival was imminent. I do hope you met with him?”
“Oh yes,” Phoenix growled. He still had mixed feelings about the Player Prince who had befriended them, betrayed them then redeemed himself by helping them against Yajat.
“Oh good,” the monk rubbed his hands together with glee. “Please tell Long Baiyu when you see him, that I am so glad I was able to fulfil my foreordained task correctly. Now you must hurry.” He ushered him toward the three-stone portal that could be seen dimly in the corner of the hall. “If you do not, both your friend and mine will be lost forever and you will be trapped in this realm.”
“Hang on,” Phoenix repeated. “That’s twice you’ve mentioned this Baiyu guy. Who is he and what does he have to do with Jade? I thought Zhudai had her.”
“Yes, of course he does,” the lama blinked at them in surprise, “but he also holds Baiyu prisoner and it is your task to free my friend as well as your own.”
“Oh no,” Phoenix backed away, shaking his head. “Freeing Jade is fine but our job after that is to master the Yu Dragon and defeat Zhudai. I’m not getting involved in anyone else’s little problems again, not after the war we’ve just been through.”
The old man smiled enigmatically and bowed. “Of course. You must do what is right and only you can decide that.”
“Oh man!” Phoenix threw up his hands in defeat. “You sound like my father.”
The monk’s grin broadened. “Where do you think Alex Carter got his ideas from, son? And while you’re thinking about that, consider one more thing: the beginning of wisdom is to call things by their true names.”
There was a bright flash of light as Marcus activated the portal to China. Distracted, Phoenix looked over. When he turned back, the old man was gone, the great hall echoed emptily and he was left with nothing but mysteries and enigmas.
“Dammit,” he muttered, “I really hate it when they do that. ‘Their true names’? Whose names? What names? ‘Fred’? ‘Mary?’ They’re names. How did he know my dad’s name? How could he possibly know my dad at all? Great. More riddles.” With a growl of frustration, he dragged his reluctant horse into the shimmering portal.
*****
Jade emerged from the bathing room almost an hour after she’d entered. Her fingers were prunes but she felt really clean for the first time since they’d left Heron’s bathhouse in Alexandria. It took a few tries to get dressed in the exotic, silken wrap gown that had been left for her but it suited her well enough. A pale blue under-robe showed at the hem and throat, beneath an over-robe of delicately embroidered silver and blue silk. Flowing sleeves fell almost to the ground. She wondered if she’d be able to eat without getting them dirty. There were a number of combs and jewels that seemed to be for her hair but she had no idea how to use them, so she left it loose. One of the longer, jewelled pins, however, now nestled in the front of her robe – just in case she needed a weapon in a hurry. The bath had been nice but Jade wasn’t about to forget that Yajat had kidnapped her, chained her in iron and pushed her into a dungeon.
As promised, the food on the table still steamed. After a moment’s thought about the possibility of poison and drugs, Jade shrugged and fell to. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten – or even felt like eating. If Zhudai wanted her dead, he could have killed her already.
After she’d eaten her fill, she wandered toward the inviting bed and thought hard about taking a nap. Darkness had crept in sometime during her bath and someone had lit lamps around the room. It was later than she realised. She sat down on the edge of the bed, running her hand absently over the smooth silk bedspread. The servant had said something about seeing his Master in the morning. She could only assume he meant Yajat’s master, Zhudai but he was the arch-nemesis of this game, so what did he want to see her for? Why was he treating her so nicely?
Kicking off her slippers, Jade slid backward until her spine pushed up against a pile of cushions at the head of the bed. She frowned, nibbling on a fingertip as she tried to work out exactly what Zhudai and Yajat were playing at. Why try to kill her, and then kidnap her instead? Why throw her in a dungeon, and then treat her like an honoured guest? Was this some sort of bizarre mind game? What did they want from her?
What had Cadoc said? Something about rumours in Xijing: rumours that Zhudai wanted to make himself immortal; that the Han Emperor himself was coming from his capital in Luoyang to speak with Zhudai. What on earth did that have to do with her?
Jade stretched her stiff neck and wriggled a bit lower so the cushions supported her head. The hairpin prodded her stomach, so she took it out of her robe and laid it on a side table. Maybe Zhudai thought her Elvish blood could somehow transfer Elven longevity to himself? She shook her head, dismissing that idea. Cadoc said immortal, not long-lived. Even Elves died eventually, so the blood of a mere half-elf wouldn’t be of any use in helping Zhudai become immortal.
So what did? Jade let her mind drift, trying to access all the lore her avatar knew regarding magical ways to become immortal. Somewhere in between contemplating drinking the Water of Life, the blood of the White Wyrm, or the Elixir of the Gods, exhaustion fogged her mind and muffled it with sleep.
She dreamed, briefly, that Phoenix, Marcus and Brynn were somewhere close by and in trouble: outnumbered by faceless warriors. Calling their names, she ran through darkness to reach them but a barred door slammed shut in front of her face. She was trapped in a cage made of gold; but it burnt her skin like iron. Then her mother and sisters appeared, pointing at her through the bars and laughing; mocking her. Even the beauty and skill of her avatar was not enough to impress them. Behind them, Phoenix, Marcus and Brynn just stood watching. Behind them stood a shadowed figure gesturing urgently to her as though he or she wanted help of some sort. Frustration made her grip the bars unthinkingly. Pain pierced her sleep.
With a cry, she awoke to a dark room, convinced her hands were burnt; that her friends were really there after all, ready to rescue her. When the room remained silent and empty, her hands unmarked; she clutched at a silken pillow and hid her face in it until she slept again.
*****
Far below, in a cell not unlike the one from which she had been released, Long Baiyu struggled upright, his eyes wide in the darkness. When Jade was close, he had hoped to speak with her. By removing her, Zhudai had also removed that idea. Baiyu was once again alone. He tried reaching her in her sleep, as she had been reached once before when she was between-lives but she was too caught up in her own fears to hear his thoughts.
Now, he sensed her weakening; and sensed also that Phoenix was in trouble. Jade now walked a path only she could choose: Baiyu could not help in the decision she had to make. He could only hope she chose wisely, for all of their sakes.
Phoenix, however….
Baiyu closed his eyes and reached out mentally to contact someone close by who might be able to help the young warrior.
CHAPTER FOUR
Phoenix, Marcus and Brynn all stepped through the portal’s shimmering surface at the same time, blades drawn. Once through, Phoenix caught only a fleeting glimpse of close walls and a low ceiling before the horses crowded through and the portal schlorped out of existence. Shadows closed in immediately, as though they had been waiting to pounce. Darkness blanketed everything so absolutely, that he had to reach up and touch his own eyelashes to make sure his eyes were open.
For several seconds, the three companions stood in front of the portal in silence, ears and eyes straining to hear anything beyond restless animal sounds made by the horses. Nothing. Phoenix found himself glad the horses weren’t silent. Their stompings and huffing breaths were the only feeling of normality about this oppressive place. In an effort to dispel his own sense of unease, he cleared his throat.
“So,” he tried for light and cheery but didn’t quite manage to suppress the uneasiness in his voice, “we’ve come through into a small, dark, enclosed space.....what an astonishing surprise.”
Brynn snickered but there was an edge of nervousness to his tone as well.
“Yep. You’d think they’d come up with something original.”
“ ‘They’ who?” Phoenix reached out to lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder, fumbling in the dark.
“These ‘programmers’ of yours,” the boy sounded offhand, as though he didn’t really care much. “The magicians who sent you two here and who keep throwing all these obstacles in our way. I have to admit, whatever you did to offend them, it must have been bad. Do me a favour and apologise to them, would you?”
Phoenix shut his mouth with a snap, realising Brynn couldn’t see his astonished look anyway. Obviously the boy had sharp ears and had put together snatches of his and Jade’s conversations in an interpretation that made some sort of sense to him. There was no point in trying to explain that Phoenix had never met the game programmers and had no way of contacting them, so he just nodded then added aloud,
“I’ll do what I can. In the mean time, let’s get some torches lit and find a way out of here.”
“Does this count as number seven?” Brynn’s question was slightly muffled as he dug into his backpack.
Disconcerted, Phoenix had to think before he realised what the boy was talking about: being trapped or imprisoned. He and Brynn had a sort of competition going; counting how many times it had happened now. He grinned and shook his head.
“Nah – we have to be accidentally trapped or deliberately imprisoned. That’s the rules.”
Brynn’s incredulous reply echoed dully, as though the sound was being sucked up by the walls. “There are rules now?”
Phoenix shrugged. “We can’t claim every dark place we end up is on the list or we’d be up to about ten by now. Besides,” he peered into the darkness, “we don’t even know where we are. It might be easy to get out.”
“Just spare me the rock falls this time, huh?”
Phoenix chuckled. “No guarantees.”
Brynn made a triumphant sound, which was shortly followed by the click of flints being knocked together. Very quickly, he had a small flame going and then a torch lit. Handing it to Marcus, the boy lit a second and kept hold of it himself. Phoenix eyed him askance. Brynn cocked his head.
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