The Yu Dragon

by Aiki Flinthart

  “I figured you’d need your hands free to chop things up when they leap out at us.”

  “Oh, way to be positive,” Phoenix groaned.

  Brynn sent him a quirky grin. “Oh, you know me. I’m positive – positive something big and nasty will jump out at us any time now. Just wait.”

  As one, all three turned outward, holding torches and weapons high and peering into the darkness beyond the pool of light. Nothing leapt. Phoenix and Marcus glanced at each other then down at Brynn. The boy raised one shoulder.

  “Give it a minute.”

  “I’d rather not,” Marcus glanced up. With an oath, he snatched his arm down, lowering the torch to head height.

  Phoenix looked up to see what had caused the reaction. Little smouldering sparks glowed on the ceiling. The sparks struggled then died. Marcus let out a soft sigh of relief. The ceiling was wood, though not timber bearers and joists like a house. It was just raw timber. Whatever this building was, it was very basic - just packed earth walls and dozens of enormous logs laid side-by-side overhead. They were obviously covered by something, since no light filtered through, but any gaps were too small and packed with dirt to tell what the roof covering might be.

  He took in the space around them. The room measured roughly five metres wide and only just over head height. Ahead, its earthen walls turned abruptly to form a solid wall only a few steps away. All in all, a very small, bleak and exit-less place to emerge.

  OK. Not time to panic. What would Jade do in this situation? How would she find a way out? The Portal? The last few times, the Portal had been firmly set into a wall, so it wasn’t with any great hopes of escape that Phoenix and the others pushed the horses to one side and turned around to look at the gate.

  “Aaaah!” Brynn’s strangled shriek died almost as it was born, absorbed by the earth walls.

  A dozen or more soldiers faced them from beyond the empty stone gate. Fully armoured and armed with long, wicked, levelled spears, the men stood in perfect formation and utter silence, eyeing the newcomers without expression. Behind them, in close configuration, stood another rank and another and another.

  Instinctively, Phoenix drew Blódbál into the guard position and Marcus’ sword glinted in the torchlight as well. Together, they faced their enemy with one thought: there were just too many.

  If Jade were here, or if there were another exit, they may have a chance but two warriors and a boy-thief against dozens or even hundreds of trained soldiers? Impossible. They would meet their deaths here in this airless little room, without even getting a chance to save their friend.

  For a long moment, Phoenix stood, semi-crouched, awaiting the soldiers’ charge. Nothing happened. The men continued to stand motionless and stare. Perplexed, he straightened up and exchanged puzzled looks with the others. Still the soldiers didn’t move.

  “Is it my imagination,” Brynn whispered, “or are these guys really, really good at being very, very still.”

  “A little too good, perhaps,” Marcus agreed.

  Brynn edged forward, his torch outthrust. The soldiers remained where they were. Boldly, he waved the torch beneath the outstretched hand of one man. The soldier didn’t even blink. Phoenix frowned. None of them blinked, actually. A dim memory scratched at his mind, asking for attention.

  “Hey,” he lowered Blódbál and took a few steps closer, edging past a lethal-looking speartip. “I know what these are.”

  Brynn was already there, tentatively touching a dusty arm. “They’re made of clay!” he said wonderingly. With a knuckle, he rapped on the body. The chamber rang with the clear, bell-like sound of fired clay.

  “They mean we’re underground, not in a building. They’re the Terracotta Warriors,” Phoenix finished, awed. The other two looked at him in bewilderment. “The first big ruler of China...Emperor Chin...Chin-something... when he died, he had thousands of life-sized warriors made out of clay to be buried with him. This must be them. Jade’s going to be majorly annoyed she missed these guys.” He opened his mouth to add that he hadn’t recognised them because, in his time, all the beautifully-painted details had worn off, leaving plain, red clay. He shut it again, deciding it was too hard to explain he’d seen them that way on television.

  Luckily, Brynn turned away, exclaiming in amazement over the detailed form and paintwork.

  “They look so real. Their armour looks like leather and,” he moved his head from side to side, staring at an impassive face intently, “I’m sure his eyes are following me.” It didn’t take him long, either, to discover the uniqueness of every face and the sharpness of every bronze weapon.

  Sucking on a punctured thumb, the boy frowned. “But what are they supposed to do? What are they for?”

  Phoenix shrugged, once again pondering the more important issue of getting out.

  “They’re meant to guard the Emperor’s treasure and serve him in the afterlife, I suppose.”

  “Treasure?” Brynn’s eyes lit up and he peered into the gloom beyond the soldiers with interest.

  “No time, remember?” He laid a heavy hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. “Besides, in this world, they’re probably spelled to come to life if you try and raid the Emperor’s tomb.”

  Brynn rolled his eyes and nodded. “That sounds like something that would happen to us. You owe me,” he wagged a finger at Phoenix, who grabbed it and twisted it upside-down until the boy yelped.

  “Just remember what happened last time we raided the chamber of a dead king?”

  “Yeah,” Brynn said cynically, “I picked up some seriously cool treasure – which Jade then gave away again while trying to save your life, as I recall.”

  “That would be the life you then took away?” Phoenix snapped, getting irritated.

  “Enough,” Marcus admonished, laying a hand on each of them. “We need to work on getting out of here, not rehash past mistakes. Ideas?”

  “We could put the horses into the Hyllion Bagia again and dig our way out,” Brynn suggested.

  “Jade had the bag, remember?” Phoenix sighed. “Which means Yajat and Zhudai have it.”

  “No she didn’t, I do,” Brynn pulled out the shiny, black cloth and waved it like a flag. “She gave it to me to get the Horn of Aurfanon out back in India when we were losing the war. I never got a chance to give it back.”

  “The Horn!” The idea of instant salvation bolstered Phoenix’s spirits immediately.

  “No,” Marcus shook his head. “We have to be in dire peril for the horn to work and we can only use it one more time, anyway.”

  “You’re right. This doesn’t qualify as dire – yet,” Phoenix scrubbed a hand through his hair. “So what else was in there?”

  Brynn cocked his head and squinted at the bag. “Umm…Roman spears and money, Egyptian treasure, clothes, the Horn. Nothing else I know that would help.”

  “OK. So that brings us back to the original question,” Phoenix glanced at the others. “How do we get out of here?”

  Marcus raised his torch again, staring at the ceiling. “Could we move the logs and dig out?”

  Phoenix shook his head. “If I remember rightly, the logs are laid across these pits and buried under about ten feet of dirt. There’s not enough space to move one and not even Blódbál could chop through one of those suckers. Pity we don’t have Thor’s hammer any more.”

  Marcus shrugged and pointed toward the terracotta warriors with his torch. “In that case, we have to hope there’s a way out behind them.”

  Brynn tilted his head, examining the ranks of soldiers. “We’ll never get the horses through without knocking them all over. Although,” he shrugged, “we’ve never let the destruction of a few ancient monuments stop us before.

  “There is a gap down the side,” Marcus indicated it. “If we can get past the spears, we should be able to squeeze through.”

  “Sounds good,” Brynn agreed. “Let’s turn them around.” He ducked in between two soldiers, and grabbed one by the waist and heaved. It teetered s
lightly then rocked slowly back to its original position.

  “Err,” Phoenix began.

  Brynn glared at him. “They’re heavy! I thought it would be hollow – light, y’know?” He grunted, trying again. This time, when the figure rocked to one side, Brynn pulled to turn it as well. The man-sized clay soldier tilted and twisted to one side; its spear now pointing almost toward its neighbour. Brynn gave it one more push, just to turn it completely. The spear now posed no danger to them or the horses. He grinned back at Marcus, who smiled faintly and shook his head.

  “What?” Brynn asked in an aggrieved tone. “This isn’t easy. You guys could help, you know.”

  The Roman stepped forward and grasped the long wooden handle of the nearest spear. With a quick jerk, he pulled it free of the earthenware hand that held it and dropped it to the ground at his feet. Phoenix laughed aloud at Brynn’s expression, smothering the sound with a hand. It felt good to laugh.

  Brynn grimaced and rubbed his forehead with a grubby fist. “Well, I suppose you could do it that way, too. Would you please stop laughing at me?” He glared half-heartedly at Phoenix, who grinned back.

  Marcus pulled another spear free. Phoenix followed suit, still expecting the lifelike pottery man to object.

  “Man, we could use one of Jade’s bright ideas about now,” he muttered, sobering as he eyed the long rank of soldiers. “What if we get to the other end and find it doesn’t lead us out, either?”

  “Then we come up with another plan,” Marcus said equably. “You’re starting to sound like Jade, anyway.”

  “There’s sure to be a way out through the tomb of that Emperor,” Brynn added with a grin.

  “You’re just saying that because you want to find the treasure,” Phoenix rolled a scornful look at the boy as they lead the horses past the first line of figures. It was a tight squeeze but they could just scrape by without knocking any of them over.

  “Who, me?” Brynn tried to look innocent and failed.

  They walked on for awhile in watchful silence.

  Marcus held up a hand. “I feel a breeze.”

  Sure enough, the faint scent of open air brushed Phoenix’s cheek as he turned his face. The torch Marcus held guttered and jumped, its light casting weird shadows of distorted warriors on the walls and low ceiling.

  “Smells like rain,” Brynn sighed with relief.

  “Did you hear something?” Marcus’ sharp question was lost in Phoenix’s next eager words.

  “I think I see something – a ramp, maybe.” He tugged his horse onward.

  “Phoenix,” Marcus glanced back over his shoulder, “I’m sure I heard…”

  “It was nothing. C’mon, we’re almost there. I can see the stars.” Phoenix hurried ahead.

  It was a ramp of sorts. Several logs had slipped off their moorings and dropped one end into a large, open space in the entombed warriors’ pit. Dirt had tumbled down, making a steep, slippery exit from the darkness, into the overcast, moonless night above.

  As Phoenix frowned at the exit, trying to work out the best way to get five reluctant horses up it, Brynn made an excited sound and vanished into the darkness beneath the logs. Marcus stared back the way they’d come. He drew his sword.

  “Right,” Phoenix decided. “I’m pretty sure it’s stable enough but I’m going to climb up myself, just to test it. If it won’t hold the horses, we can always do the Bag thing again. You guys wait here.” He looked around. “Where’s Brynn gone?”

  “I don’t know,” Marcus’ reply was tight with strain, “but I’m sure I heard something back there.”

  “You’re imagining things,” Phoenix assured him. “There’s no-one there but a bunch of fake clay soldiers. Now where’s Brynn?”

  “Hey!” Brynn’s voice sounded faintly from beneath the earthen ramp. “I’ve found a door here. I bet it leads to the Emperor’s tomb. It’s all covered in gold and there’s writing on it. I’ve picked the lock, easy. I’m just going to…”

  “Don’t open it!” Phoenix and Marcus yelled at the same time.

  There was a faint squeak, followed by several ominous twangs and thumps; then silence.

  “Brynn?” Phoenix called out. “Are you ok?

  “Um,” the boy’s voice was faint and sheepish. “Help?”

  “I’d better go get him.” He said in aside to Marcus. “Sounds like he’s got himself in trouble again.”

  Marcus’ hand gripped his arm and Phoenix almost yelped in shock. He looked at the Roman boy’s face, white in the torchlight.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think he’s the only one. Look.”

  Phoenix looked into the darkness where the clay soldiers were standing. There was nothing but rank upon rank of blank Chinese faces staring at them, spears levelled, bronze tips and painted eyes glinting in the torchlight.

  “What? I don’t see anything.”

  Marcus’ fingers tightened. “We can see their faces.”

  “So?” Phoenix shrugged. “We could always see their faces. So what?”

  “We’re behind them now. We should only see their backs.” Marcus whispered. “They’ve turned around.”

  His words were followed by the creaking, musical, thunderous sound of a thousand clay hands tightening their grips on a thousand spears; and a thousand clay feet taking a step forward, toward the intruders.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Oh man!” Phoenix groaned. He raised a fist and shook it toward the ceiling. “C’mon! An army of clay soldiers coming to life? Even I know that one. A little originality here, please?”

  “Who are you talking to?” Marcus dropped into a fighters crouch, his eyes never leaving the slow-moving wall of automatons.

  “Nevermind,” Phoenix muttered.

  “You were the one who said they were spelled to come to life if the tomb was raided,” Marcus reminded him.

  “It was a joke, ok? I didn’t expect them to be this predictable. Brynn! Get out here!” he yelled, backing up against his horse. The animal snorted at him and pushed back.

  Marcus cast a quick look at the steep, mud-covered ramp. It glistened with rain. “We’ll never get the horses up that, or into the Bag in time.”

  The terracotta men took another ponderous step forward.

  “Do we fight or run, then?” Phoenix looked at Blódbál dubiously. It was a magic sword but he wasn’t sure even it could stand up against a thousand ceramic enemies who didn’t feel pain and probably couldn’t be killed.

  “Without Jade’s skills, I don’t think we have what it will take to stop these magical things,” Marcus replied evenly.

  “Brynn’s door then?” he suggested. “Through the undoubtedly-cursed and probably booby-trapped tomb of a dead Emperor?”

  “So it seems,” the Roman agreed grimly.

  “Of course,” Phoenix sighed.

  Together, they snatched at the horses’ reins and hauled them beneath the broken timber roof, into the unknown. The sound of heavy, synchronised footfalls echoed loudly behind.

  Brynn’s torch lay on the floor, sputtering in the dirt. By its smoky orange light, Phoenix could see the boy’s predicament. In spite of the danger that dogged their footsteps, he had to laugh.

  The tomb entrance had been boobytrapped with loaded crossbows. Ten bolts had been flung at the intruder who dared to open the tomb. Luckily, Brynn was a little smaller than the trap-builders had been expecting and the crossbows were old, so he was uninjured – except for his pride. Three of the bolts had speared through his loose clothing and he stood pinned to the wooden door. He’d managed to tear himself free of two of them but the third had gone through the thickest part of his pants-hem and the material wouldn’t rip.

  The clatter and clink of clay soldiers resounded in the small space.

  “Quit playing around, Brynn.” Phoenix yanked the bolt free and handed it to the glowering boy. “And find a way out of this mess you got us into.”

  Brynn opened his mouth but movement over Marcus’ shoulder cau
ght his eyes – which widened into horror at the sight of the first clay soldiers stepping out of the darkness.

  “I thought you were joking!” He yelped, backing into the tomb opening.

  “So did I.” Phoenix snatched up the torch and thrust it at him. “Let’s go.”

  They barely managed to get the horses inside and the door closed before the first speartip thrust through gaps in the wood of the door. It emerged inches from Marcus’ nose. The Roman flinched backward.

  “There’s no lock on this side,” Brynn wailed, scrabbling around for something to jam into the door.

  “There’s got to be some way of blocking the door. Go further in if you have to but find it,” Phoenix ordered, leaning all his considerable strength against the wood. Something heavy and hard slammed into it, jarring him to the teeth as he braced himself. His feet slid a couple of inches on the dirt and he had to shift to get better purchase on the dusty floor.

  A few seconds later, Brynn called out to Marcus. After a quick glance at Phoenix, the Roman ran toward the sound, towing the frightened horses behind him. The door jolted beneath Phoenix’s shoulder again and again. Wood began to splinter.

  “Phoenix!” Marcus’ deep voice echoed down the tunnel. “Run. We can block this entrance.”

  With one uneasy look at the door, Phoenix jumped back and ran. Behind him, the door flew open, wood shattering and metal clashing on stone. A bronze-tipped spear flew past his head. Gulping, he sped up. An arrow zipped by, scraping his arm. The deafening thump of pottery feet grew louder again. When was this tunnel going to end?

  There, ahead! The orange blaze of a torch lit the regular outline of a doorway. Brynn’s head was silhouetted against it.

  “C’mon! Hurry!” The boy shouted. “They’re right behind you.”

  Phoenix grimaced. His lungs burned. So close now. Four more paces. Pain ripped through his ribs and left shoulder. He stumbled, falling through the exit to land on his knees on a hard, cold surface. Dragging a shallow, painful breath, he coughed.

  Behind, a stupendous, grinding crash was followed quickly by three more, equally as loud, then deafening silence.